Let's Call the Whole Thing Off
by Larene.Howard
Summary: Set after The Winter Soldier, Bucky tries to regain both his memories and his humanity. Arabella, a sweet girl with a not-so-perfect past catches his eye. She's his first real friend besides Steve, but they both want more than that. This fic will be rated M for some mature themes, but I will try very hard to post any necessary trigger warnings. Expect Avengers to pop in a bit.
1. Prologue

**Note: To my despair, I own nothing from Marvel. All characters from their works belong to them. **

This place was unfamiliar to me. Not a single building jogged my memory. According to the Smithsonian exhibit I'd grown up here. Too much time had passed though, and nothing looked right; maybe that was a sign that some part of me remembered my home. When I'd walked through the exhibit the pictures, the faces, they'd seemed _right_, even if I couldn't remember them. The only thing in this neighborhood that felt remotely right was this small park.

Once again I considered returning to Hydra. I was practically incapable of acting on my own. I needed orders; I needed a mission. These emotions were confusing and distracting. Yet, I couldn't give them up. For some indescribable reason, this confusion was preferable to numbness.

After visiting the exhibit and seeing a face that felt alien and yet familiar I'd decided to visit Brooklyn in hopes of wading through some of the confusion. It hadn't worked. I required a new plan. Visiting my previous target—_Steve_ a part of my brain whispered—seemed unadvisable. I needed more information before engaging another potential conflict. There was only one place to obtain the necessary information: Hydra.

**THREE DAYS LATER**

Instead of returning to Hydra with the intention of rejoining them, I would steal their files regarding my creation, maintenance, missions, and any other information I deemed relevant. I would use lethal force if necessary, but my primary goal was to get in and get out cleanly. Those would be my mission parameters. Once I completed that mission I would determine the most efficient way to proceed.

I was standing in the living room of his small apartment waiting for him to return. I had picked the lock and let myself in. Once I had ascertained that the apartment was empty I removed my guns and put them on the table. If he believed that I had no hostile intentions things were more likely to proceed with less conflict. However, I kept my knife tucked into my boot in case my intention was not clear. If necessary I would incapacitate and restrain him, but would not use lethal force under any circumstances. Those were my mission parameters.

I could hear his footsteps on the floor outside the apartment. I'd relocked the door to prevent suspicion.

"Holy—," Steve swore as he turned on the apartment lights.

"I'm not hostile," I informed him.

"Did Hydra send you?" he asked, tensing for a fight.

"No," I answered. He relaxed his stance slightly.

"Why are you here then?" he asked.

"I know you, Steve." I let him hear the strain in my voice. I wanted to feel human, not machine.

"You remember me?" He moved to touch me, but I stepped back to avoid the physical contact. While some part of me didn't think he had hostile intentions, my whole body was in constant preparation for a fight.

"No, but I…_want_ to," I almost whispered to last part, unaccustomed to expressing myself in such a way.

I handed him the file I'd stolen from Hydra along with the accompanying thumb-drive. It was thick and written in multiple languages, mostly Russian. Chunks of my missions were blacked out or missing, but it was all I had.

"We'll work this out, Bucky," he told me as he skimmed the file. He became agitated as he read the few pages that were in English. "Did you read this?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember any of it?" he closed the file with a sigh.

"Some parts, other parts feel familiar," I responded.

"What do you want to do, Bucky?" I froze at the question. I couldn't remember anyone ever asking for my opinion or desires. I studied Steve's face for a moment and saw something that I recognized in some deep part of my mind. This man would do anything for me. For a brief flash I could see a skinny blond with a black-eye standing in front of me with the same earnest expression.

"I don't know, Steve."

"We'll figure it out," he repeated. It was the first time in my memories that I could recall someone offering me comfort.

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><strong>AN:**

Hello! This story is something that's been stuck in my head for some reason, and we'll see where it goes. I appreciate reviews, but ask that they remain polite. I am anything but perfect, so please don't hesitate to point out errors or make suggestions. I'm also always up to answer any questions you may have. Fanfiction is a great way for people to express themselves and to grow as writers; it's also pretty darn fun. So, let's keep it that way Lots of love—Laurene


	2. Chapter 1: Black Coffee

**Note: To my despair, I own nothing from Marvel. All characters from their works belong to them. **

_Arabella_

_3 months later_

"Nicky!" I yelled from the kitchen while throwing together a quick breakfast.

"Yeah?" I heard her respond from the shower.

"Oatmeal or scrambled eggs?" I asked loudly.

"Oatmeal!" she called back and then went back to singing a rather unique mix of several Katy Perry songs. I laughed to myself and started boiling some milk for oatmeal and some water for tea. This was our usual routine: one of us made something quick and the other did dishes. Usually I cooked because I was up first, but not always. Oatmeal was our typical choice for workdays.

"Do you want a glass of milk, Luka?" I asked the best little helper a girl could ask for.

"May I have hot chocolate?" he smiled up at me through dark lashes. I put my hands on my hips and met his pout with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

"That you love me and will let me have hot chocolate," he grinned. Damn, this boy was good. He definitely got that one from his mom.

"I do love you, and I will let you have milk or water." He stuck out his lip, but accepted defeat.

"Okay, but can I use the hippo straw?" I just laughed and agreed to his terms, pouring him a glass of milk into a red plastic cup with a light-up hippo straw we'd seen at a gas station the other day.

Luka was Nicky's absolutely wonderful four-year-old son. He had a pile of auburn curls on top of his head and eyes just as green as his mom's. Throw in Nicky's dimples and attitude, add my love of books and knowledge, and you had one formidable four-year-old. Even though I wasn't his mom, I'd always been a part of his life. Nicky and I were young when she got pregnant, and with the dad out of the picture I stepped in and stood by her side. I'd held her hair during morning sickness and her hand during labor. We'd both worked hard to make a good life for the three of us. But then again, what are sisters for?

Luka pulled his stool up to the stove so he could stir the oatmeal. Stirring was always his job, it was our deal. He also got first dibs on the spoon when we made cookies, but that was only because I'd lost a game of rock-paper-scissors. The little man had some serious skills when it came to rock-paper-scissors.

"The water is making that noise, Auntie Ara!" he called to me as I was setting the table.

"What's that noise called, Luka?" I quizzed him as I turned off the heat on the stove and pulled out two mugs.

"It's whistling!"

"Good, and what's the pot called that we boil water in?"

"A kettle!"

"A+ my man!" I laughed and kissed his forehead, peeking at the oatmeal while I did. It still had a minute or two left. I threw in some nuts, raisins, and brown sugar and let him continue mixing. I poured the hot water into the two mugs I'd grabbed and let the tea steep, knowing they would finish up about the same time as the oatmeal.

"Ara, where're my work shoes?" Nicky called from her bedroom. I rolled my eyes.

"On the rack by the front door, where the rest of your shoes are."

"Oh," she huffed in frustration and she walked into the kitchen. "Did you put them there? I thought I left them under my bed."

"I moved them when I vacuumed, sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Mmm, that smells so good!" she kissed the top of Luka's head and brought the oatmeal to the table. I grabbed our tea, put a cube of ice in hers like always, and sat down at our tiny little table.

Though neither of us were really morning people, we always insisted on sitting down and having breakfast together. With our work schedules we never saw each other at lunch and dinner wasn't always a guarantee, though we did eat together most of the time. Neither of us had really grown-up having sit-down meals, so it was a tradition we started after we got our own place. It helped us feel like a family.

"You'll pick up Luka from the sitter after work today, right?" Nicky double-checked. She had a double shift at the hospital today and wouldn't be able to do it herself.

"Yeah, do you want me to drop off dinner to the hospital?"

"No, I'll take leftovers."

Nicky was a great mom, but her job made it hard sometimes. Nicky was an ICU nurse at the hospital a few blocks away and she loved her job. She made enough money to support herself and Luka without having to work every day. She got a stable job, good healthcare benefits, and could always pick up extra shifts if she needed the money. The hard part was how long the shifts were. Yeah, she got overtime, but who really wants to work a double shift? We worked it out though, just like everything else. This was what she'd chosen, and it worked well for our little family.

We finished eating and Nicky started doing the dishes while I went and finished getting ready. She pulled her long, platinum-blonde hair into a ponytail. She'd been dying her hair for so long that I wasn't even sure if _she _knew her own natural hair color, but it suited her bubbly and quirky personality. Nicky was one of those people that could sit and watch Netflix for hours and play videogames for days, all while rocking pristinely done make-up. She told it to you straight, had very little filter, and was one kick-ass mom. She was average height and had curves for days. Better yet, she was the best sister a girl could ever choose.

"Time to go, little man. Is your backpack all ready?" she asked Luka.

Luka nodded, grabbed his pack, hugged me goodbye, and ran out the door with Nicky following close behind him.

I zipped up my boots and headed out the door of our apartment not long after they did, not wanting to risk being late to work. My job wasn't glorious and the pay wasn't nearly as good as Nicky's, but it was enough to pay the bills while I worked on getting my master's degree. I worked at a local coffee shop as a barista and waitress. I worked the morning shift, but not the earliest one, and usually finished up around mid-afternoon so I could head to class. Occasionally I worked all day on the days when I didn't have class, but usually I was studying. While most would find it boring, I was pretty content with my life.

The coffee shop was busy this morning, but no busier than usual. I smiled at my co-workers and tied my apron behind my back before getting to work. The morning went smoothly. Most of our customers were pretty regular since we were a smaller city, but we also got the round of people just looking for a caffeine fix.

As the initial morning rush started to fade, one of our regulars walked through the door. He sat down at a table in the corner and pulled out a book, just like always. I grabbed his usual cup of black, house-blend coffee and a plain bagel and carried them over to the table.

He'd been coming in every day for about a month now, and his order never changed. Actually, very little about his routine seemed to change at all. He always came in after a workout, wearing a sweatshirt, running shoes, and a light sheen of sweat. His hair was pulled back into a small bun, and he always had a book with him. That's probably why I started talking to him, and I don't just mean the type of talking employees always do with customers, but actually talking. We never really talked about anything to personal, but we always talked about books.

At first it was uncomfortable, like her wasn't used to having normal conversations. He was still, intimidating, and I was fairly certain I'd pissed him off. When his reaction was similar the next day, I backed off, not wanting to be an annoyance. But then, after a few days of him just reading in silence, he asked me for a book recommendation. After that we started talking every day.

He was a loner, it was obvious. He was also peculiar in some ways, like how he wore gloves every day even though it wasn't that cold outside. He was a bit quiet, preferring to ask for my opinion on things than to give his own.

"Do you love it or hate it, James?" I asked as I set down his usual order on the table, gesturing to the book.

"A little of both," he responded with a sigh. "Is this really your favorite book?"

"Yes," I smiled, completely understanding his frustration.

"Oscar Wilde is kind of full of himself though," he argued.

"Oh, absolutely," I laugh.

"It's also pretty pessimistic."

"Is it?" I ask with a smirk.

"I take it you disagree," he lifted his brow.

"I think he's doing that purposefully. I think the point is to demonstrate the flaws in having such a negative outlook," I tell him while clearing the table next to him.

"Your break's soon, right?" he asked me shyly.

"Yeah, in about twenty minutes. Want me to join you again?" I hope he'll say yes, just as he has all week. He first asked me this last Friday, apparently not content having our conversations constantly interrupted as I helped other customers. He'd surprised me the first time he asked, he'd actually been a bit forceful about it, but after a week I was starting to just expect it.

"Yes," he answered simply. While he'd started being a bit more conversational over the past month, he was still a man of few words most of the time. It took a bit of coaxing to get him to use responses that were longer than one sentence.

"Okay," I smile.

I take a few people's orders and bring them their drinks. Mr. Earl ordered his usual mocha, Ms. Davis her Americano. Louisa brought in her daughter again and they got hot chocolates together. I sold a coffee to a teacher that had yet to tell me his name, and all the while I snuck peaks at my favorite regular every time I had the chance.

I wondered if he even noticed that how often I stole glances at him. James was always intently reading, but something told me that he missed very little. He never glanced back though, but I wished he would. He really was quite handsome, and I swore he got more handsome every day.

When he'd first started coming in he looked exhausted to the bone, deep circles ringed his eyes. His cheeks were hollow and he never smiled. Over the past month he'd started to look healthier, if only a bit. His pallor became slightly less pale, his cheeks ever so fuller, and he even smiled once and a while. The circles still remained but they were less haunting now, though they still worried me.

"You read quickly, I just gave you that book two days ago," I commented as I sat down with a cup of tea.

"This coming from the girl that probably finished it in a day," he challenged.

"Two actually, I had to work," I resisted sticking out my tongue at him like a child.

"How is this your favorite book?" he shook his head, truly not seeming to understand.

"It's beautifully written," I defend, feeling as though he's insulted me even though I knew that he probably didn't mean it that way.

"You're right, but it's also pretentious."

"So you disagree with what he writes?" I push, hoping to get more explanation.

"He points out the worst parts of everything and then makes fun of all the good things. I agree with him most of the time, but I don't feel like he's giving the full picture. He's just looking at it in one way." His eyes lit up when he talked like this, when he actually gave his opinion and spoke his mind, but that didn't mean I was going to let him have the last word.

"That's the point! He wants you to recognize that. It's a commentary on cynicism."

"But how is this your favorite book?" he asked again. "Why not something romantic, or magical, or happy?"

"I love books like that," I responded in confusion. He knew I liked those kinds of books, we'd talked about it.

"Then why is this one your favorite and not one of those? It would make more sense." He was looking at me intently. He tended to do that.

"How would that make more sense?" I felt like I was missing something.

"I just feel like your favorite book should always make you smile," he gave me a sad smile of his own. I noticed that he looked more tired today than usual. I wondered if he had trouble sleeping. Maybe one day I'd ask. I've always been too nosy for my own damn good, but I was hesitant to ask him about anything too personal.

"When things are hard, it brings me comfort." It was difficult to explain, but I wanted to try. "When I'm upset and feeling like the world is dark, it's nice to read something that fits the mood."

He stopped for a moment and looked at me with a strange expression on his face. Maybe I'd given him too much information. We weren't really friends, were we? I wanted to be, there was something dark about him that spiked my curiosity. It needed soothing, I could see it, and I wanted to help. To do that though, I had to make sure he didn't run away screaming from the crazy coffee chick.

"I guess that does make sense," he agreed. "What else do you do when you're upset?"

The question stopped me for a moment, but then I told him, "Usually I go running. I get all this pent up energy when I'm upset, if I don't find some way to get it all out I just start going crazy." That craziness typically ended with me drunk-off my ass at some sleazy club causing trouble, but I definitely wasn't going to tell him that.

"Do you go running normally, or just when you're upset?" he asked, probably trying to lighten the mood.

"I try and go running every day, but I'm not very fast or anything. It's more of a brisk jog than a run," I joked. "What about you? Do you like running?"

"I run five miles every day. It helps me clear my head," he answered, once again giving the minimal amount of personal information.

"Do you wear gloves when you run too?" I ask casually. I'd been dying to ask him about the gloves that he constantly sported, but I never could think of a way to sneak it in to conversation.

He shrugged and looked uncomfortable, "Yeah, I wear them most of the time."

"I've never seen you take them off," I teased with a smile.

"I have a prosthetic," he admitted. I tried to hide the shock from my face, but I most likely failed. "I wear them to avoid attention."

"Is it too much for me to ask to see?" I tested the waters. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he slowly removed them. I desperately tried to keep a steady face, but couldn't stop the gasp that escaped my mouth when I saw that his left hand was metal. "How high does it go up?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"My whole arm," he admitted reluctantly.

"It is some kind of bio-tech?" I asked, reaching out to touch the metal for myself.

He quickly withdrew his hand as though I'd burned him before I could even touch him. I felt like a scolded child. What was I thinking? I'd never touched him before, and now, after he finally reveals something personal I try and push him further. I knew better.

"Sorry," he practically whispered, putting his hands back on the table. "You can touch it, if you want to. I'm just not used to it."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable." The level of vulnerability on his face worried me.

"It's okay, really," he assured me. He wanted me to, I realized.

I reached across the table slowly and touch his hand in my own. The metal was only slightly warmer that the room, not nearly body-temperature. He held his hand still, but I knew that he could use the hand with at least similar dexterity to his other. I'd seen him use it before, even if I hadn't realized it at the time. I could feel the strength under my fingertips. It was obviously some advanced form of bio-tech, but since he'd ignored my question about I decided to save it for another day. This little part of him was enough for today.

"It happened when I was in the army," he answered my unasked question. He was apparently in a sharing mood today.

The army. It made sense. I wondered how long he'd been out, ois hir if he was still in. That could explain the hollow look that crept into his eyes. I'd known a soldier or two over the years and I'd seen that look on them before, after returning from a tour. War messed with your head, not just your body. I was a bit disappointed in myself that I hadn't already considered that as an explanation for his mannerisms.

"Your break is probably over," he reminded me abruptly, breaking the moment. I checked my watch. Damn, he was right.

"I should get back to work," I sighed, letting go of his hand and standing to leave the table. "I'll stop in a talk some more when we have a slow moment."

"Actually, I have to get going." He pulled some money out of his wallet and placed it on the table. He usually hung around longer and read some more.

"Oh, okay. See you tomorrow," I tried to smile, but my words came out as more of a question.

"I'll probably finish this tonight, what book should I start next?" I think it was his way of assuring me that we were okay.

"If you're up for it, I suggest some of Oscar Wilde's plays or poetry. His essays are seriously pretentious, but I think they're worth reading."

"Where should I start, the poetry, the plays, or the essays?"

"Start with his short stories. The Canterville Ghost and the one about the Sphinx's Secret are my favorites," I smile at him.

I got back behind the counter and started on someone's coffee. He smiled at me before leaving and I waved goodbye to him. Today had been wonderful. Not only did I learn more about him, but he had freely offered personal information. I just hoped that tomorrow we wouldn't go back to just talking about books. There was so much more I wanted to know about James.


	3. Chapter 2: Lasagna

**Note: To my despair, I own nothing from Marvel. All characters from their works belong to them. **

_**BUCKY**_

It had been three months since I first showed up in Steve's apartment. Technically it had been 95 days, but Steve keeps telling me that I don't have to be so precise about measurements of time unless I am specifically told to do so. This is the longest I've gone without being frozen since I was first taken. According to what we can read in my file, the second longest time was when I was on a mission for two weeks solid. The file reported that at the end of those two weeks I was "exhibiting behavioral irregularities and had memories resurfacing." The report had suggested that for future missions I not be allowed to go without a memory wipe and cryogenic sweep for any time longer than a week.

I was never allowed to live my life for longer spans than a week at a time, and now I'd been living it for three months.

The first month was the hardest. I didn't understand things like sleeping, eating, and speaking. Before, if I ever ingested food it was for purely nutritional value. Speaking was simply for responding to commands, not expressing myself. As for sleep, well, according to my file I hadn't slept outside of cryogenic freezing in over twenty years. Sleeping was still one of the hardest parts.

Steve and I had left the city about 2 months ago. The loud and crowded city made me jumpy, so Steve hoped that moving to a quieter area would help me calm down. We didn't go far, only living a few hours outside of New York City, but we chose a relatively small and quiet town with a college not far away. And yeah, I do mean _we_, Steve didn't like to make decisions for me or give me orders. When it came time to choose a new place to live, he looked up a list of possibilities and had me pick one. I'd really just pointed to a random city, but it was nice to have free-will.

It had been hard at first to make my own decisions, even when it came to simple things like what I wanted for lunch. It got easier as time passed, but it's still automatic for me to look for permission or guidance. At least Steve's always there to laugh at me and tell me that I don't need permission to brush my hair.

Steve's been there for me every step of the way, almost too close at times. As I started to actually think for myself and remember things about my own personality, Steve started to frustrate me with his constant hovering. I'd ended up almost breaking his hand once in frustration, so he started giving me my own space, but I felt guilty.

Guilt was a difficult emotion, and despite Steve's constant reminders that I had no control over my actions, I was still plagued with it. It took me a few weeks to realize that I was supposed to feel guilty over all the people I started to remember killing, but once I felt the guilt it was like opening Pandora's Box. I could remember the deaths I inflicted so much easier than my old life.

Steve and I started marking down the memories that resurfaced, hoping to find some sort of pattern. For the most part I remembered the more recent things first, but occasionally older things would resurface. The triggers were all over the map: hair colors I saw on girls in the street, getting hit somewhere while sparring with Steve, reading a news article, etc. The memories of my life before Hydra were the hardest. Those had been buried the deepest.

I remembered very little of my old life. I remembered enough of Steve to trust him completely, but he was my strongest memory. Over the last few months I started to remember little things about myself such as foods I liked, music I enjoyed, and books I appreciated. With Steve's help I was starting to get at least a slim grasp on the kind of man I was, I just wasn't sure that I still was that man.

It was helpful to have a routine, so I developed one. I ran five miles every morning, got coffee, went back home and sparred with Steve, had lunch, went for another run, sparred some more, took a shower, had dinner, read a book, watched the news with Steve, listened to some music, and went to sleep. It was a shell of a life, but it was what I could handle at the moment.

Interacting with people other than Steve was the hardest part. It typically avoided people, but Steve told me I needed at least some human contact. That's why I started to go to the coffee shop down the road. I could buy my coffee and breakfast, sit, read a book, and barely talk to anyone. Well, that's what I'd hoped I could do.

Instead, I met Arabella. That's where I was headed now.

I walked into the small coffee shop and sat down at my usual table. I tucked my hands in my pockets uncomfortably and waited for her to walk over with my usual order. I wasn't wearing my gloves today. After yesterday I didn't want to hide it anymore, but I was still wary of letting too many people see my metal appendage.

"Good morning, James," she smiled, setting my order down on the table. Once again, I was glad I hadn't told her to call me Bucky. It was nice to just be James here, with no pressure of being Bucky, no one to force me to be The Asset, I could just _be. _

"Morning," I responded.

I reached out to grab my coffee with my left hand. She smiled a little when she noticed that I hadn't worn my gloves, but I could see her trying to be casual about it. I was glad I'd left them off.

"What are you reading today?" she asked in her normally sweet voice.

"I got a collection of Oscar Wilde's poem from a bookstore last night, I was about to start it."

"Well, it's a bit busier than normal so I can't stay and talk, but I hope you enjoy them." She looked sincerely apologetic, so much so that it was almost silly. I understood that she had a job.

"Will you sit with me while you take your break later?" I knew the answer already, but I liked asking the question.

"If I get a break," she sighed. "One of the guys called in sick today. I may not be able to take my break for a while, if I even get one at all."

"You need a break," I said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. I looked over at the staff and tried to figure out which face was missing but couldn't. I'd never paid that much attention to the other employees. I would now.

"Oh, it's okay. Mehmet sounded really sick on the phone, he needed to stay in bed," she answered politely. "But, if I get a break before you leave then of course I'll sit with you."

I pulled out my book and tried to at least look like I was reading while she worked. It was hard to focus on anything but her though. She smiled at the customers and knew most of their names, always smiling and laughing. Sometimes she would look tired or upset, but never for more than a few moments. I didn't understand her, but I wanted to.

She was small in stature, probably no more than 5'2" and had a short, curly, light brown hair with blonde parts streaking though unevenly in a way that could only be natural. She was quite pretty, or so I had I begun to realize over the past month. It was hard to look at someone and not start calculating their weaknesses and strengths. For so long, people had been targets and threats. It was hard enough at first to see Arabella as just a person, let alone as a woman. But now, I definitely saw that she was a woman, and an attractive one at that.

A woman that I knew almost nothing about, as Steve has been pointing out to me all week since I finally told him about her. He asked me all these questions, how old she was, what types of things did she like, did she have a family, and I couldn't answer any of them. I could tell him all about what kinds of books she likes, but that was about it.

I'd caught tid-bits about her life here and there, things she let slip. I knew she was in school, I knew she had a sister, and I knew she was kind. Those few times she had let things slip she looked worried. Maybe she didn't want some stranger knowing about her life. I told Steve that, but he didn't look bothered. He simply told me that I needed to act like a friend then, not a stranger. That meant telling her about my life too.

She was looking at me, I could feel her gaze. She did that a lot, gazed at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I never called her out on it and always acted like I'd never seen, but today I decided to look up at her and catch her. She froze for a second and blushed, something she did easily and frequently. It looked nice against her porcelain skin, maybe I'd have to do it more often. I smiled at her, hoping that she wouldn't let this stop her from stealing glances at me. I liked knowing that she was thinking about me while she worked.

An hour passed and she still hadn't been given her break. It was actually starting to frustrate me. Wasn't that illegal or something?

Last night I'd asked Steve to skip the news and go with me to the bookstore so I could buy the Oscar Wilde book. I wanted to keep reading more of his work since I knew she enjoyed it. I asked Steve for some advice and after talking to him and drawing on what little I could remember about talking to women, I' made a rough plan for how I wanted today to go. I wasn't patient enough to just wait until tomorrow. I had specific questions and I wanted them answered today.

Another half-hour passed and I ordered another cup of coffee. I started actually getting through some of the poems and not just watching her, the boredom getting the better of me. I pulled out the phone that Steve had bought me and taught me how to use, which was humorous since he barely understood it himself. I sent him a quick message so he wouldn't worry when I arrived home late.

I sat there for a few hours, drinking coffee and reading while she worked. She stopped by the table once at a slow moment to tell me that I didn't have to stay if I didn't want to, but I told her that I would wait.

At 2:30pm she finally hung up her apron and sat down in front of me.

"Are you finished working for the day, or are you just on break?" I asked. I'd never stayed this long. I didn't know how late she usually worked.

"I'm finished for the day," she smiled.

"Do you need to go home?" I hoped she would say no, but wouldn't be angry with her if she said yes. This was beyond our normal routine.

"Not for a while, but I do need to eat some lunch," she laughed. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," I answered. "We can go get lunch together, if you want."

"Sounds like a plan to me; I'll just go grab my purse."

This was unexpected, but I liked the change in plans. This would allow me more time to talk to her than normal.

She came back with her purse in her hand and I followed her out the coffee shop.

"Where would you like to eat?" she asked.

"How about that place?" I pointed to a small little diner across the street. I'd eaten dinner with Steve there a few weeks ago and had liked it.

"Okay," she smiled.

I liked how often she smiled. At first I thought it was fake, that she just smiled all the time to hide something else. But after a week or two I realized that it was just part of her personality. She laughed and smiled easily. It made me feel more comfortable smiling in return.

"So, did you like the short stories I recommended?" she asked as we crossed the street.

"The Canterville Ghost actually made me laugh. I didn't like 'The Sphinx Without a Secret.'" I tell her. I don't really want to talk about books today, but it's a nice place to start.

"Why didn't you like it?" she sounds a bit disappointed, and I instantly regret my hasty summary.

"It just seemed a bit pointless."

"Oh, did you read any of his other short stories?"

"I read 'Lord Arthur Savile's Crime', but it just made me angry. The man pointlessly murdered someone, claimed it was for love, and then never even told his wife."

"It was trying to show the power of suggestion," she argued.

"It used a bad example," I ended the conversation. I disliked talking about murder and death, even if it was just in a book. "I don't want to talk about Oscar Wilde anymore."

"Okay," she said quietly. I realized belatedly that I had been harsh. This wasn't going how I'd planned.

We ordered our food and sat quietly or a moment. She looked uncomfortable.

"How old are you?" I asked suddenly, breaking the silence. She looked up at me and blinked her blue-green eyes a few times like she was surprised.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"I want to talk about you today," I tried to explain. Why couldn't this go smoothly? I had to have been good at this once, right?

"I'm twenty-one," she answered easily. "How old are you?"

I thought about her question for a moment before answering. Steve and I had thought about this one night, trying to figure out which of us was older, but we'd never come to a conclusive answer. I gave her the best answer I could. "I'm twenty-seven."

"What do you study? I remember you mentioning that you had class once," I changed the subject. I didn't like hiding part of the truth from her. I was physically about twenty-seven, but that wasn't how old I really was. I didn't lie to her though, I wouldn't do that. It felt wrong.

"I'm earning a master's degree in school counseling. I only have one year left. I love college and all, but I really want to start actually using my knowledge." My other questions could wait, because I wanted to know more about this.

"Why do you want to be a school counselor?"

"I don't think I could imagine doing anything else," she mused. "I want to work in a high school or middle school and help students. Whether they need someone to talk to, or someone to hand them college pamphlets, or just help deciding which classes to take, I want to be there. Sometimes kids have no one else but themselves, it's not right. You hear all the time about schools failing kids, and I'd rather help than just complain."

"Those kids will be lucky to have you," I told her earnestly.

"What kind of work do you do?" she asked me, once again picking a question that was difficult for me to answer.

"Odds and ends for now, I'm trying to figure out what I want to do." It was the truth, even if it wasn't very descriptive. "I used to be a soldier, but I'm not sure I want to be that anymore. I'm just not sure I know how to be anything else."

Steve wanted help rebuild and fix S.H.I.E.L.D., but I wasn't so sure. I'd been a soldier when I was Bucky, but I'd been a weapon with Hydra. The thought of being a soldier again wasn't all that appalling, but I refused to ever be a weapon again. I wanted to protect people, not be a killer. Maybe I could do that with S.H.I.E.L.D., but I didn't trust the broken organization that too closely mimicked the secrecy and distrust of Hydra.

"How long have you been out of the military?" she asked gently.

"Three months, I guess." That's how long it had been since I'd been under Hydra's control, but it had been so much longer since I'd been a real soldier.

Our food came and we both started eating. She'd ordered a slice of lasagna and looked like she was enjoying it. She smiled up at me when she caught me watching her eat, so I started to dig into my own food. I'd ordered the first thing on the menu, some burger that the diner was known for.

"Do you have any family?" I asked her, wanting to get through the internal list of questions I had.

"I live with my sister and her son. It's the best little-family a girl could ask for." She smiled, but for the first time it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"What about your parents?"

"They passed away when I was a kid." In that moment she looked more numb than sad. I knew the feeling.

"My family's been gone for a long time too," I wanted to hold her hand or something, but I wasn't sure she would want me to, so I just kept eating.

"My nephew is the cutest little thing in the world though," she said happily, taking out her phone to show me a picture of them together. He didn't look a thing like her, but he was one cute kid.

"How old is he?"

"He just turned four," she answered with another smile.

We spent the rest of the meal talking about Luka, her nephew. I didn't get through my list of questions, but I learned all sorts of other things about her. I learned that she didn't like pickles. I learned that she enjoyed baking. It was nice.

I told her a few things about myself too, but realized that there was very little to tell without explaining my history to her. I wondered how she would take it if I were to actually tell her the truth about me. I made a mental note to talk it over with Steve. I couldn't think of a way to tell her anything without telling her everything.

"I'll pay," I told her. It was probably a bit old-fashioned, but even after all this time I still had at least some of my manners. They were resurfacing more and more when it came to her.

"No, that's okay, I can pay for my own food," she insisted, looking uncomfortable with the idea.

"Really, I insist," I tell her, handing the waitress the money.

"I should get home soon. I promised Luka that I would take him to the park today," she told me as we left the restaurant.

"Well then, I'll see you tomorrow. Where are you parked? I'll walk you to your car." She pointed to the lot behind the coffee shop.

I walked her over, sad that our time was ending when I still had a few questions left. I decided to save them for tomorrow, but wasn't happy about it. I opened the door of her car for her. It was an old green beetle, a bit scratched up but well-kept.

"Will it make you uncomfortable if I hug you?" she asked suddenly before getting in the car.

"Normally, yes, but I'll make an exception," I tease.

She wrapped her arms around me hesitantly. It was a familiar feeling that I hadn't quite placed until now: affection. I'd been trying to put a finger on it for a while now with both her and Steve, but I hadn't really remembered it until now. But now I could remember hugging Steve when we were kids, hugging family members at parties, hugging girls after dates. I wrapped my arms around her small frame and rested my nose in her unruly curls. She smelled like flowers.

"See you tomorrow, James," she smiled as she pulled out of the hug and climbed into her car.

"See you tomorrow," I say in return.

* * *

><p>"You're back late," Steve accused when I walked into the apartment we were renting.<p>

"Oh, put a sock in it," I tell him. Not wanting to him to hover again.

"Seriously?" he complained. I wasn't sure what he was complaining about though. Maybe I was being a bit rude; I do owe a lot to Steve.

"I've been showing you every picture I can find of us when we were younger and all I get are a few fuzzy memories and lots of brooding silence," he said indignantly. "Dangle a dame in front of you and you start to sound like the old Bucky again in no time flat. I should've known better."

"You're still jealous that I got more tail than you?" I questioned with humor.

"Did you actually get to know her a bit today, or did you just talk about books again?" he countered.

"We had lunch and yes, I actually asked her personal questions." Steve grinned, but I ignored him.

"I want to talk to you about something else though, are you serious about wanting to fix up S.H.I.E.L.D.?" I'd been thinking about it the whole walk to the apartment.

"Yes, I am," he answered honestly. I could see it in his eyes. He'd always been a soldier too, even more than I had.

"I need something to do Steve, a job or something. All I've ever been is a soldier, a weapon. I won't be a killer anymore. I just…can't," I struggled to explain it to him. "But, I can't just sit around and work out all day."

"I understand what you mean," Steve sighed. "Look, I'll call up Fury and talk to him. See what he thinks. Maybe I'll call up some of the other Avengers too, see what they do when they're not off saving the world."

"I won't be their weapon, Steve. I need to be something more."

"I won't let that happen," he assures me.


	4. Chapter 3: Earl Grey

**Note: To my despair, I own nothing from Marvel. All characters from their works belong to them. **

**Trigger warnings: some references to abuse and neglect.**

**Arabella**

I smiled the whole drive back to the apartment. I really needed to make a care package or something for Mehmet because having him call in sick was one of the best things that could have happened to me today. I'd actually had lunch with James. Not just coffee while on my break, but lunch. He let me hug him too! I was on cloud nine.

Or at least I was until I saw who was sitting on the porch of our apartment complex.

"Hey Matt, are you joining us for dinner tonight?" I asked as I walked up to him.

Matt was a seventeen-year-old boy that came over every now and then when his foster parents were giving him a hard time. He was a good looking kid, with caramel skin and hair the color of chocolate, but his worn-down clothes and twitchy mannerisms always made him look like someone you didn't want to turn your back on. I'd known him for a few years now, longer than his three foster families. We'd been in a home together right before I became emancipated, but it wasn't until this family that I started seeing him more than once a month or so.

"Only if you promise not to make me eat carrots," he answered. There was a cut above his eyebrow, but I wasn't going to ask him about it.

"This is the third time this week, Matt. You need to ask for new foster parents," I told him bluntly as I let him into the apartment.

"Look, if I'm going graduate high school I need to keep my grades up. That won't happen if I switch schools again," he sighed in frustration. "I age out in two months, I just to make it until then. It's not like that fat-ass can really do much damage, I'm not exactly some little toothpick."

"Hey, you know the rules," I scold him.

"Luka's not here right now," he argued.

"It doesn't matter, watch your language." He rolled his eyes and muttered something about me having a stick up my ass, but I ignored him. I knew he didn't really care.

"Anyone else coming by tonight?" I asked him. I only knew a handful of kids still in the system, and I knew even fewer that I'd let into my home while Luka was around. But the ones that I did know all knew each other too. It was pretty normal for us to have one or two of them join us for dinner.

"Mal might ask you to crash here if that crazy lady she lives with is going out again tonight. Last time that lady brought home some sleaze that freaked Mal out pretty bad, I guess he grabbed her or something. I don't know, she wouldn't say much."

It surprised me that Mal hadn't come by sooner then. Usually she stopped by and talked to Nicky when stuff like this happened.

"We haven't seen her in over a month. I thought her foster home was pretty good? She's been there for what, six months now?" That was a pretty good amount of time for a foster home, especially when you're sixteen.

"Yeah, it was chill until the lady broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago. Now she gets hammered on the weekends and brings home sleazes." I could tell that it pissed him off. Matt and Mal were both pretty private about it, but we all knew they were dating. "At my last home I could've just let her stay over, but I don't want her near this new bunch."

"Are you still planning on getting a place of your own when you age out?" I asked him as I pulled some fruit out of the fridge for him. Matt was always hungry when he got here, but I wouldn't be making dinner for at least a few hours.

"Can't I have chips or something?" he whined when I handed him the bowl of grapes.

"Stop complaining and answer the question."

"Yeah, I've got enough money saved up for the deposit. Plus, my boss said he'll give me a raise next month after I get trained on closing." He sat down and started devouring the grapes, so I pulled out an apple and an orange, knowing he'd end up wanting those too.

"Where are you going to live?"

"Dan and Skid are aging out right about the same time, and if we all chip in we'll get by just fine." I frowned at that. Both those kids dealt. I knew it, Matt knew it, and if Matt still wanted to live with them then I wasn't going to argue. Hell, maybe Matt was dealing now too. I didn't think so, but the thought worried me.

"Are you going to get all pissy if I ask you?" he instantly knew what I was talking about. He got a bit angry too, but it didn't bother me.

"You know I'm not into that shit, Mal would bust my balls." I almost smiled. That girl really had done a good job of keeping him clean.

"Matt swore!" Luka called as he ran into the kitchen with Nicky following him.

Matt muttered something unintelligible, but I figured he was cursing my nephew. Still, he smiled at Luka and gave him an elaborate handshake they'd come up with a few months ago.

"How was the library?" I asked Nicky as the boys caught up. She'd taken Luka to kids' day at the library this morning.

"This week's obsession is Brazil," she told me with a laugh.

"Brazil?" I questioned in confusion.

"One of the new kids in his preschool is Brazilian, so Luka thinks that he needs to learn all about Brazil so they can be friends." I shook my head, completely unsurprised.

"Has he given up on sign language?" I ask with a laugh.

"No, he's still learning with Audrey so they can be friends at school."

"Your son really is something else. He just grabs the loneliest kid in the room and makes them his best friend no matter what, doesn't he?" The new foreign kid, the girl that's deaf, and the kid that didn't talk: those were the friends my nephew had chosen for himself since starting preschool a year ago.

"He takes after his aunt," she said with a smirk.

Luka and Matt were in the living room playing, so I decided to get some studying done. I had an essay due next week and really needed to finish gathering the evidence I wanted to use. I pulled out my school books, took a seat at the counter, and started working. I doubted Luka would even remember that we were supposed to go to the park now that Matt was here. Matt was good with him, not quite as good as Mal, but no one could top her in Luka's mind so that was pretty much a moot point anyway. Matt was always one of the guys that looked out for the younger kids in the system. Right now he wasn't living with any young kids otherwise he'd probably be back at the house to make sure they didn't get beat on. It made me proud, even if it did get him into trouble.

I started up dinner around seven and had Matt help Luka make a salad. I didn't even have to turn around to know they were making a mess, but it was worth it to hear them both laughing as hard as they were.

"Did you bring your school books?" Nicky asked Matt as we sat down for dinner.

"Yeah, it's okay if I study here after dinner until Mal gets here, right?" He didn't even have to ask, but Nicky and I knew he was trying to be polite.

"Of course, are you still having a hard time with Bio?" Nicky continued.

"Yeah, the teacher's so stupid. He never explains anything," Matt complained. We'd both heard him say that before about teachers, but we knew it was just an excuse. "You'll help me, right Nicky?"

"I guess so, can't have you failing out, can we? Then we'd never get rid of you," she teased.

"Can I help too?" Luka asked.

"Not with Bio, dude, sorry. Maybe you can hold up the flashcards for me while I study French," Matt responded with laugh.

"First you need to eat your salad though, Little Man," I told Luka, pointing to the pieces of spinach still sitting on his plate.

"Fiiiiiiiine," he whined.

"How are your other classes going?" I asked Matt.

"Jesus, are you guys my parents?" he complained half-heartedly. Nicky shot him a glare and he sunk in his seat slightly. "I'm passing…mostly."

"What are we going to do with you?" I groaned.

"Hopefully, pass me another piece of chicken."

I threw a bread roll at him.

"Hey! Not fair! That was the last roll!"

"Does Mal know you're failing biology?" Nicky questioned.

"Are you kidding, she'd go crazy and probably drag me by the ear to my teacher and make me promise to do extra-credit or something!" he responded in horror. I laughed because he was probably right.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Nicky said with a raised brow.

"Look, if you help me understand this photosynthesis thing then I'll be able to get a good enough grade on my test tomorrow that I won't be failing anymore. Then there'll be no need to say anything to Mal. Okay?"

"Deal," Nicky agreed with a laugh.

* * *

><p>Mal knocked on the door at around seven thirty, just as Nicky was getting ready to give Luka a bath before bed. I greeted her with a hug when she walked in the door. She had her backpack with her, so I knew she was planning on crashing on our couch. She looked a bit thinner since I'd last seen her, and I didn't like that one bit.<p>

Mal was only fifteen, but she had fire in her. She had long black hair that fell down to her waist and framed her round face. Her dark brown eyes were always highlighted with thick black eyeliner that I'd never seen her without. She towered over my small stature, and yet still usually wore heels. She was one of the smartest girls I'd ever come across in the system and she took absolutely no shit from anyone. Plus, she was Luka's favorite person in the whole wide world.

"Where's my man?" she asked with smile as she walked in the door.

"Right here," Matt called from the table. Mal just looked at him with a raised brow.

"She means me!" Luka corrected him as he ran into the room in his underwear to give her a fierce hug.

"There's my favorite man in the whole wide world!" Mal kissed him and threw him up over her shoulder.

"You wound me," Matt groaned, but Mal just ignored him.

"Luka, you need to take your bath," Nicky sighed from the doorway to the bathroom. Well, that explained why Luka was running around in his underwear (though he did that quite often for no particular reason).

"I'll give him his bath, Nicky. Don't worry about it," Mal said to her with a smile, carrying Luka into the bathroom by his feet.

"Well, seeing as I'm not wanted anymore, I should get going," Matt told me with false annoyance.

"Did you get all your homework done?" I asked, not wanting to kick him out.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "Plus, by the time I get back my foster dad will be passed out. He was already pretty high out of his mind earlier. I doubt he'll still be functional now."

It pissed me off that he'd be going home to that, but I knew it could be worse. I knew that if I offered to let him stay at our place he'd turn me down. He always did. He'd only ever crashed on our couch once, and that was a few years ago after he got beat up pretty badly.

"Night, Matt," I tell him before sending him off with a hug and a kiss to the cheek.

"He'll be okay," Nicky assured me after he left.

"You don't know that," I argue.

"Yeah, I do. He's a smart kid. He knows how to stay out of trouble." I sighed, hoping she was right. "They're all getting so old. Pretty soon they'll all age out," she mused.

"I know, Mal's the youngest right?" I checked.

"Yeah, by a full year. After Matt ages out we'll just have three left in the system."

"Do you really think they'll all make it?"

"I don't know, Ara," she sighed, pulling out two mugs for tea and starting up the kettle. "If anyone can get them out in one piece though, it's us. Hell, I got pregnant and we still made it out, went to college, and made a life."

"He's planning on living with Dan and Skid," I told her with a sigh.

"Don't both of them deal?"

"Yeah, but he says he still clean." I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"Well, you do what you have to do. He won't live with them for long, just long enough to figure things out. You know how hard it is when you're all on your own."

"We just need to make sure he makes it out in one piece," I sighed.

"The Little Man is all done with his bath," Mal called out while carrying a very wet Luka all wrapped up in a towel.

"Can you read me a story?" Luka asked her in his sweetest and most persuasive voice.

"Yes, but first let's put on some pajamas. We can't have you running around naked, can we?" Mal teased, tossing his hair.

"Are you sure? Mommy says that nud'ty is nadural." I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes honey, _nudity_ is perfectly _natural_, but society tells us that we need to wear clothes." Nicky reasoned with him, emphasizing the words he'd mispronounced so he could hear them correctly.

"You use the word sociedy a lot. But I don't know what it means, mommy," Luka informed her very seriously.

"It means that you need to do what most people do, like wear pajamas," Mal told him before carrying him off to the room he shared with Nicky. He had his own bed and everything, but we couldn't afford a three-bedroom apartment while I was still in school.

"His library books are in his backpack!" Nicky called after them.

"I love when Mal comes over, it's like having a free Nanny," I joked between sips of tea.

"This thing with her foster mom worries me though," Nicky sighed. "I thought she was in a good one."

For the most part Mal had been in some pretty decent foster homes over the years. She'd been moved around infrequently and even still talked to a few of the foster families that she used to live with. I really hoped that she would be a lucky one and get out clean. I sighed, at least our other two kids still in the system were with good families, we rarely even saw them.

"She looks like she's lost weight," I noted.

"Yeah, I'll talk to her about it tonight."

"Okay," I agreed, trusting Nicky to handle the situation. "I'm going to work on homework."

"Nerd," she teased.

"Goodnight, Nicky," I laughed, heading off to my room.

* * *

><p>The next morning Mal was asleep on the futon in the living room. I laughed because Luka had climbed in with her during the night. They were both splayed out and snoring softly. I nudged them both awake so they could get ready for school and told Mal that we'd moved her toothbrush to the bottom drawer in the bathroom. She smiled, thanked me, and headed off to go get dressed.<p>

Luka was rubbing his eyes, not quite awake yet, so I carried him into his room and handed him off to Nicky so they could both get ready. Once he was dressed he ran into the kitchen to help me make scrambled eggs and toast.

"Damn that smells good," Mal smiled as she walked into the kitchen.

"Do me a favor and set the table please," I told her in response.

She smiled and did as I asked.

"Mal, do you want a ride to school today? It's not far from the hospital," Nicky asked as she walked into the kitchen, her hair still wet from her shower.

"That sounds amazing," Mal smiled.

"How's school been?" I asked as we all sat down at the table and started enjoying our meal.

"I got a B on my last essay," she pouted. "I'm going to meet with my teacher to talk to him about it today."

"You do realize that most people would be happy that they got a B, right?" Nicky dead-panned.

"If I get Bs it's harder to keep my grades up when I move schools," Mal, reminded her.

"Do you think you'll move school again?" I asked.

"There's a group home with an opening soon, and I want to move in." Well, that was news.

"Will you have to move schools?" Nicky asked her.

"I don't think so, but that's not the only reason I want to get good grades. I want to go to college, like you guys did," she admitted with a smile.

"Well, hopefully you don't do it exactly like we did," I laughed.

"Yeah, as much as I love Luka, I'd rather not have kid while I'm seventeen," Mal agreed with a laugh.

"Hey, say what you want about it, but a college schedule is a hell of a lot easier to organize around a kid than high school. The college had a nice daycare, I was on a good scholarship, and I even had a nice on-campus job," Nicky smiled, downplaying all the difficulties we'd actually had. It had been hard as hell, especially financially, but it worked out in the end.

"You guys are going to be late if you don't get going soon. I'll do the dishes today," I interjected, noticing the time.

"Are you sure?" Nicky asked.

"Yes, now get going," I smiled, standing up to start the dishes.

Luka scurried of to his room to grab is backpack while Mal gathered her things.

"I packed you a lunch," I told Mal, handing her a brown paper bag.

"You know I get free lunch at school," she reminded me.

"I also know how crappy school lunches are," I said. "There's leftover chicken in there and some fruit."

"You're the best, you know that right?" she smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Nicky complained as she started to usher the kids out the door.

"You don't cook for me, so I like her better," Mal said matter-of-factly as they walked out the door.

After they left I finished cleaning up and headed out the door, braiding my hair quickly as I walked down to the car. I'd put on a touch of extra makeup today, actually taking the time to use eyeliner instead of just some concealer and mascara. I even used a dab of blush, it was practically a miracle. Nicky had noticed, but I knew she'd wait to ask me about it until tonight.

I hadn't told Nicky about James yet, but I knew I couldn't keep it from her for much longer. I just didn't really know what to say about him. There was quite obviously something dark and troubled about James, but there was also a light in his eyes that touched me in ways I'd never experienced.

It didn't hurt that he was both attractive _and_ enjoyed books.

I couldn't say definitively that I was interested in him romantically; relationships weren't really my thing. But, I was positive that I liked him in an extremely non-platonic way. Maybe I'd have to lift the "no-boys" ban that I'd been on, I sighed.

When I walked into the coffee shop it was still busy from the morning rush. James came in at his usual time. I smiled, brought him his order, and told him I'd be on break in about half-an-hour. He patiently waited, but every now and then I'd smile over at him.

Things felt more comfortable with him today, more familiar. He actually stole looks at me while I was working and smiled back at me when we caught each other's eyes. He'd come so far over the past month. Back then I wasn't even sure he could smile. Now I just needed to hear him laugh.

I'd seen him smile and quietly laugh because he knew he was supposed to, but I'd never heard him _really_ laugh, the kind of deep and guttural sound that you couldn't control. My new goal was to hear him laugh so hard I would worry about his sides hurting.

"How're you today?" I asked when I sat down.

"Same as always," he answered with a shrug. "You?"

"I'm well," I said with a smile. He had a book with him, just like always, but for once I wasn't really interested in taking about it.

"How was the park? You said you were taking your nephew, right?" I blushed, happy that he remembered.

"Actually we ended up having a friend stop by last night. Luka got all excited and forgot about our plans," I said happily. "What did you do last night?"

"Nothing special," he answered nondescriptly. He must have seen me frown a bit at his reticence. "I just worked out and watched the news with Steve."

"Who's Steve?" I asked in curiously. James never talked about other friends, I had begun to worry that he didn't have any.

"He's my best friend, practically my brother. We live together," he told me. He seemed comfortable talking about this Steve guy, so I pressed on.

"What's he like?"

"Usually? He's a pain in the ass," he muttered, then he stopped, looking ashamed for a moment that he'd swore. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"Don't apologize," I laughed. He was seriously old-fashioned! "Please, continue."

"We were soldiers together. He used to be this scrawny little guy that never avoided a fight. Now he's just a big guy that still never avoids a fight," he smiled happily. "He's really helped me out these past few months. I guess he owes me for saving his scrawny little rear all the time when we were kids."

"He sounds great," I agreed. James smiled in return with a shrug.

"Enough about me," he said. "Did you grow up here?"

It took me a minute to respond to his sudden topic change.

"I grew up in this area. I've thought about moving but I've never gone through with it." Nicky and I used to talk about it all the time, but until all the kids aged out of the system we wanted to stick around. "Did you grow up around here?"

"No, I grew up in Brooklyn," he answered brusquely. "What kind of music do you like?"

"Lots of different kinds I guess," I said hesitantly.

"Which different kinds?" he pressed forcefully. I leaned away from him a bit and gave him an odd look.

"Do you have a list of questions to ask me? Because this feels like an interview."

He shrunk slightly and I suddenly felt bad. "Yes," he admitted quietly.

"I'll bring my iPod with me next time and you can take a look at it, okay?" I said gently, trying to smooth over his discomfort. He looked at me in confusion, like he wasn't sure what I was taking about.

"So you can see what kind of music I listen to," I clarified, though I didn't understand his confusion. Didn't he know what an iPod was?

"Thanks," he answered quietly, still looking a bit uncomfortable.

"What else is on your list of questions?" I teased, hoping to ease the tension.

"I want to know what interests you have besides reading, what your relationship status is, and what happened to your parents," he answered mechanically. I froze for moment, uncomfortable talking about my parents at work.

"Interests: swimming, museums, concerts, and volunteering at animal shelters. Relationship status: single. Parents: dead," I informed him with practices ease, hoping he wouldn't push me for more information here. "See? That wasn't so hard."

"That also wasn't very descriptive," he complained.

"I don't really want to talk about my parents while I'm at work," I said with a bit of testiness that I'd never used with him before. I checked my watch. "Plus, we don't really have the time."

"Do you have to get back to work?" he asked with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Yeah, sorry." I wasn't sure why I apologized, but I felt bad that I couldn't talk to him longer.

"I feel like I've been rude," he said apologetically. Truthfully, he had been a bit blunt, but I knew he didn't intend to ask anything uncomfortable.

"Tomorrow's my day off, but maybe we could grab lunch together on Monday before I head to class? We can talk more about my interests and my parents if you want to know more, okay?" I offered, hoping he would take me up on the offer. I'd have lunch with him today, but I was working all day and wouldn't have all that long of a lunch break. I also didn't want to leave on a negative note.

"Okay," he agreed with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"James, you didn't upset me," I reassured him before standing up to head back to work. I turned to walk back to the register, but I felt a hand on my wrist.

He had grabbed me with his metal hand, but I just looked at him curiously. His grip was tight, but not so tight as to leave bruises. He's stood up and I realized what he wanted, even though I wasn't sure he understood himself. I stepped close to him and hugged him tight before heading back to work with a grin I couldn't get rid of.

"See you Monday," he said in goodbye, leaving the money for his food on the table.

**A/N:**

I myself have not been in the foster system, but I have a few friends that were in the system, some temporarily and some permanently. However, they were not foster kids in New York. They were in another state, so I am not completely familiar with the way the New York system works. I've been doing some research and a lot of what I am writing is based off of a New York Times piece concerning the topic along with first-hand stories I've been reading from various sites. If I get something wrong, please remember that this is a work of fiction. While I want to be accurate, occasionally I may simplify or generalize something for the ease of writing. That in mind, please don't hesitate to give me feedback or to correct me, just please do so nicely.

Also, "aging out" is a term that refers to what happens when foster kids turn 18. While you hear stories about kids getting "kicked out" I also read quite a few first-hand accounts about kids that stayed with their families until later. According to what I found out online, foster kids that are attending school still can't get kicked out until they're 21. However, it sounded like a lot of kids tried to leave the system as early as possible. I'm not super familiar with how it works in New York because in my state my friends that were in the foster system moved into a transition home of sorts after they turned 18 until they could afford a place of their own or turned 21.

As always, please review I always look forward to feedback.


	5. Chapter 4: Jasmine Tea

**Note: To my despair, I own nothing from Marvel. All characters from their works belong to them. **

**Trigger Warnings: I don't think there really are any for this chapter, but if you disagree please let me know and I'll add them!**

**Bucky**

Monday couldn't come faster. I didn't even go to the coffee shop on Sunday since I knew she'd be gone, choosing instead to sit down with Steve and mark down some of the new memories that had resurfaced. He'd tried not to laugh at me when I told him that I remembered hugs, but I could see the humor in his eyes.

Today I wanted to hear all about Arabella, but I knew that soon I'd have to tell her about myself if I wanted to continue getting closer to her. It wasn't fair for me to keep asking her such personal things without telling her any in return. That's not how it worked.

I was torn up about it, not sure how to tell her or whether it was the right thing. It would drag her into this whole other world of craziness that I wanted to protect her from. Plus, I'd have to tell her what I'd done. I was a weapon and a killer, no matter how hard I was trying not to be. How could she not be scared of me? She should be.

But what if she wasn't?

That's what was really messing with my head. Arabella was a kind person, unbelievably so. I could already tell that she wasn't one to turn her back on a problem. If anyone would hear me out and forgive me it would probably be her. She probably wouldn't, but just the thought that she might was enough to make me want to risk it.

I remembered how it felt when she reached across the table and touched my metal hand. I handed that hand. Hell, I hated that whole damn metal arm. But having her touch my metal hand, well, it made me not hate it quite as much.

Instead of going straight to the coffee shop after my morning run I headed back to the apartment. Since I was having lunch with her I decided to arrive a bit later.

"Spar with me for a bit?" I asked Steve, interrupting his boxing.

"Why aren't you at the coffee shop?" he asked worriedly. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm meeting her for lunch. I thought it would be a good idea to do some sparring and take a shower first," I said, moving into a fighting stance.

Our sparring room wasn't quite as big as I'd like, but it worked. We'd rented a decent size apartment and turned the third room into a small gym. It could be better, but it could also be a lot worse.

"You do smell," Steve informed me as he took a fighting stance too.

"And yet I still get more tail than you," I smiled before he took a swing at me. I dodged it a slammed my fist into his jaw. He reeled back slightly but quickly recovered.

"I've never even met this girl, for all I know you're making her up." He finally landed a blow to my stomach, but it hardly phased me. "You did used to tell a lot of tall tales when it came to dames."

"Everything seemed tall compared to you back then," I grunted before knocking his feet out from under him.

That's when we really started fighting.

No matter how hard we tried, neither of us could every early win. We were too evenly matched in strength now, we knew each other's style too well. At first it hadn't been like that, the first few times we sparred there had been a clear winner, but now we always had to end things earlier otherwise it'd get dangerous to both of us. This time we had to end it at a draw when we both had each other by the throat.

"Again," I said after we separated and stood back on the floor.

Fighting like this was so different, it took so much more focus. Killing someone was easy, simple and quick. But I wasn't trying to kill Steve, I wanted to beat him. It took Steve a full week to convince me that I wouldn't kill him if we sparred. It took another two weeks for him to convince me to stop pulling my punches. The idea that I might hurt him, that I might snap back into the Winter Soldier frightened me more than anything I could remember.

A few days after I started really putting my all into the fights I had an episode. I barely even remember what happened, but by the time I finally came around I'd almost snapped Steve's neck. It took him a few weeks to convince me to even touch him again.

I still had episodes every now and then but Steve was usually able to talk me down. When he couldn't, he just left me be for a bit until I calmed down myself. Some days were harder, like the ones where I'd remembered a few of my Hydra missions.

"Christ, you're a punk," I accused after he sent one of his knees into my rib.

"At least my knees aren't so bony anymore," he laughed.

"Could've fooled me," I muttered before sending my fist into his jaw. I knocked his feet out from under him and pinned him under me. "You're not nearly as good at this without that frisbee of yours."

"Jerk."

I stood up and held my hand out to him to help him to his feet. He accepted it with a glare. Neither of us were exceptionally good losers, or winners for that matter, as I proved by jokingly pushing him down. Steve responded by pulling me down with him. Punk. I kicked him off of me with a laugh.

"Do you want to go another round?" he asked as we got back up on our feet again.

"I should head to the cafe soon," I said after checking the time.

"Wouldn't want to be late for your date," he smirked.

"It's not a date," I corrected. I wish it was, but it wasn't.

"You sure about that?"

"Seeing as out of the two of us, only one of us has ever actually been on a date, I don't think you're in the best position to argue with me about it."

I walked out of our make-shift training room and into the kitchen.

"I've been on a date," Steve defensively argued.

"Yeah, double dates that I set up half-a-century ago," I countered as I grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge and handed one to him.

"I hate you," he glared.

"No you don't," I smirked.

"So if this isn't a date, are you going to ask her on one?" he pushed. I frowned at him, not liking this train of conversation.

"No," I answered firmly.

"Is she not a looker or something?" he asked in confusion.

"I just got out of Hydra and have a metal arm." My voice was flat.

"So, she's ugly?"

"Shut-she's not-," I threw the closest thing I could grab square at his head. Apparently it was a coffee pot.

"What the hell!" he hollered as hot coffee spilled all over him. At least he ducked so the pot didn't hit him square in the nose.

"It's not like that, so drop it," I ordered menacingly.

I stalked out of the kitchen and slammed the door to my room. Even a hot shower didn't lesson my frustration. I knew it wasn't Steve's fault, he was just acting like the punk he's always been, but it was easier to aim my anger at him.

Before Hydra I would've already taken Arabella on a date and moved on to the next dame. That's how I was. I complimented them, wooed them, and moved on to the next pretty face, but that was before. Before I spent decades acting as a weapon with no self-control. Before I had so many nightmares that I never slept through the night.

How could someone so beautiful and kind want to be with a weapon that's killed too many to count? And even if she did, even for the old Bucky that was new territory. I'd never been serious about a girl. What was the point of being serious when I was likely going to die in war and break her heart anyway? The army was the only steady girl I ever needed.

It was best if Arabella and I stayed friends. Right?

Steve was still sitting in the kitchen when I left my room.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" I bit out sharply.

"Nope, not really," he smiled, much to my frustration. "So, where are you taking her?"

I just ignored him and left the apartment before I threw something at him again. He was seriously asking for it today. At least some things never changed.

The whole walk to the cafe I kept telling myself that it wasn't a date, that it couldn't be. Then I saw her and couldn't stop wishing that it was, that it could be.

She was working at the espresso machine making some customer's orders, singing and dancing to the radio. She laughed with her coworker and I could hardly remember how to breathe. She was beautiful. Not just pretty, but beautiful. Her light brown curls were clipped back at the sides to highlight her face and she wore just a touch of makeup. She dressed no differently than normal, in a plain pair of jeans and sheer top, but it didn't matter to me what she wore.

Her whole face lit up when she saw me and I couldn't help but smile in return.

"You're lucky I always carry a book with me, otherwise I would've been very bored on my break today without anyone to talk to," she teased. "I thought you weren't coming today."

She said the last part with a smile too, but I could see the flash of insecurity in her eyes. She'd actually thought I'd stood her up. I felt guilty for worrying her, but it also felt nice to know that I could worry her.

"And miss our lunch? Not a chance," I assured her. Her returning smile was brilliant. "When do you get off?"

"In an hour."

I nodded in response, picked up my usual order at the counter, and sat down at a table in the corner. I pulled out a new book that I'd picked up over the weekend and started to read while I waited for her. The hour passed slowly, but not excruciatingly so. When she finished her shift she hung up her apron and grabbed her purse and coat from the back.

"Where would you like to eat today?" she asked me as I held open the door of the coffee shop for her so we could leave.

"How about the Chinese restaurant two blocks over?" I suggested. I'd thought about it last night so that I would be ready with a few ideas.

"I love that place," she said with a small smile.

Pleased with my choice I started to walk her there. We walked in silence, neither of us exactly sure how to start a conversation. I almost offered her my arm, but she was standing on my left side. Even if she did want to take my arm, which was unlikely, she definitely didn't want to hold my metal arm. I wore a jacket, but she would still be able to feel the difference.

"Can you feel things in your prosthetic?" she asked quietly. It took me a minute to untie my tongue after she seemingly read my thoughts, but eventually I could answer.

"It's not a prosthetic, not really. And yeah, I can feel things. It's not the same as my other arm, but I still feel everything." I didn't like talking about my arm, it was just a constant reminder of how much of a weapon I was and would always be.

She reached out a grabbed my metal hand as though it was perfectly normal and asked, "Is it stronger than your other arm?"

"Yes," I answered harshly. I quickly pulled my hand from hers. "This is the place, right?" I unnecessarily confirmed in order to change the subject.

"Yes," she replied quietly. She looked upset, but I ignored it. She'd be more upset if I accidentally bruised her with the very metal hand she seemed enamored with.

I led her inside without a word and let the hostess seat us at a table by the window. It wasn't until after we ordered our food that she spoke up again.

"Please don't be angry at me just for being curious," she said with quiet command.

"I'm not angry," I corrected flatly.

"If you're going to lie to me, I will leave," she replied with narrowed eyes. So her kindness did have a limit: dishonesty. It was understandable.

"I'm not lying," I groaned, running my fingers through my hair. "I just don't want to talk about my damn arm," I said harshly enough that she recoiled.

"Sorry," she whispered as though I'd kicked her. She looked like I'd kicked her too, it was like a knife in my gut.

"I just hate it, okay? I don't want to talk about the ugly thing, I'd rather talk about you. We never got to finish our conversation the other day," I tried to sound as apologetic as I was. I reached out and took her hand in my good hand, hoping to ease some of the pain I'd caused.

She looked up at my stubbornly though and reached for my other hand. I bit my lip as her warmth enveloped the cool metal. She laced her fingers through mine and looked up at me warily. She was testing me, but I couldn't understand for what. I just hoped I passed. It wasn't until I felt her relax that I realized she had been tensed for my reaction.

"What do you want to know about?" she asked evenly.

"Everything," I answered honestly. "But we can start with the same questions I asked the other day. What do you like to do beside read?"

"Well, I'm not sure how much more I can say beside what I already told you. I like visiting museums, swimming, and volunteering at the local animal shelter."

"What kinds of museums do you like?" I asked. Maybe I could take her to one. Hell, maybe taking her to the Smithsonian would be a good idea if I ever got up the guts to actually tell her about myself.

"All kinds really, but I'm not a huge fan of modern art. Science museums, painting galleries, fossils, they're all interesting. You learn so much," she answered wistfully, as though she was lost in thought.

"Do you dislike all modern art, or just some?" I pressed.

"Personally, I just think that some artists got too obsessed with the message they were trying to send that they forgot how to paint. Those art pieces, the ones with a plain circle on the canvas, are the ones I tend to avoid. I guess I'm just not refined enough to understand them," she laughed.

"Why did you hold my hand after I told you to stop asking me questions about it?" There was just something about her wary expression that I needed to understand.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" she leaned back to pull away but I held her hand firmly.

"No, don't apologize. I like it," I reassured her. "Please answer the question though."

"I wanted to see if you would get angry," she answered in a tone that seemed far too guilty.

"You wanted me to get angry?" I was confused. That was dangerous of her, I could've hurt her.

"No, not really. But I was afraid you would." She looked away from me so I couldn't properly read her expression, but she sounded reluctant to talk about this.

"I don't understand," I admitted.

"Don't worry about it. Plus, don't you have other questions?" She smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. I catalogued the moment in my mind so I could return to it and think it over later, hopefully with more information. Maybe when I knew more about her I could ask her about it again.

"Yes I do," I agreed. "The second question I asked you in the coffee shop was about your relationship status."

"I've already told you that I'm single, what more is there to know?" Something in my head told me that this was not an appropriate moment to ask my intended follow-up questions about all of her past relationships. I remembered that social norm at least.

"Then, may I ask about your parents?" I desperately wanted this answer, but I didn't want to upset her.

"What would you like to know? I warn you, it's not a pleasant story," she said with a sad smile.

"What were they like?"

"They were funny and loving. They took me to museums and tucked me in at night. My mom constantly left books all around the house and my dad loved cooking." She laughed quietly. "They were just wonderfully normal parents that had their own problems but always loved me and tried their best."

"What happened to them?"

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"They died in a car accident when I was nine," she said evenly, as though she was numb to the story now.

"What happened to you and your sister then, did you live with relatives?" I wondered.

"Nicky's not my biological sister," she explained. "I met her in the foster care system when we were thirteen. We were in the same house for eight months, it was the longest either of us stayed with one family. Even after we changed homes we stayed close. We've just been sisters ever since."

"You never stayed in one home longer than eight months?" I confirmed with barely disguised worry.

"I was in a group home for several years, but yeah. I moved around a lot as a kid."

I was about to ask her another question but the waiter interrupted by bringing out our order. It was probably for the best. I'd finished the list of questions that I'd had. While I now had a whole new list, that list could wait for another day. Right now I just wanted to see her smile again.

"What are your plans for the day?" I asked in a deliberate attempt to lighten the mood.

"I have class tonight, but that's about it. You?"

"Steve and I are seeing a movie, I guess they're playing some old movies at a local theater." They were movies from his list of things he needed to learn about this new century.

"Which movie are you seeing?"

"Some movie about wars on a star or something," I tried to remember the exact title but couldn't.

"Star Wars?" she laughed. "You've never seen Star Wars?!"

"I'm a bit behind on popular culture," I admitted. She just laughed heartily and it didn't bother me that she was laughing at my expense. I'd be her fool any day if she laughed like that for me.

"It's like you've been living in a cave!"

"Well, it's a bit complicated," I said. I almost balked at her statement; I pretty much had been living in a cave.

"How so?" she asked politely, not realizing how difficult her question really was.

"Can we save my life story for another day?" I asked with mild irritation. I had no idea where to even start telling her about my time in Hydra.

She shrunk back slightly, but I didn't let her release my hand.

"I hardly know anything about you," she gently justified. "Can we start with small things, like your last name and interests?"

"My last name is Barnes, and beside reading I don't do much of anything except workout and fight," I answered reluctantly.

"Well, my last name is Wright," she responded. Then as if suddenly remembering something, she exclaimed, " I almost forgot, I brought my iPod!"

That's right, she said she'd bring that iPod thing with her and that she would somehow use it to show me what kind of music she enjoys. She pulled a small electronic device out of her pocket, typed something on the screen and handed it to me. I stared at it blankly for a moment until I realized that I was staring staring at a list of artists. I scrolled through her music, only recognizing a few artists, but liking what I saw. It seemed eclectic, filled with classics from far before even my time along with lots of modern artists (or at least I guessed they were modern based in the album covers).

"I'm fairly generic. No super rare bands that only an expert in that genre would know. It's all just pretty normal," she said with some shame, as though being normal was embarrassing.

"You like classical music?" I asked in curiosity. She blushed beautifully, instantly making me glad I asked.

"I do, but not nearly as much as I should," she laughed.

"Well, don't feel too bad, my music taste is severally out-dated," I assured her. She gave me a strange look, probably noting that I was again alluding to being out of touch with this time, but chose not to question my statement.

"Are you seeing someone?" she asked casually.

"No," I answered bluntly.

A part of me wanted to joke with her, the old me would have. Bucky would have made a joke about how she was making a pass at me, perhaps I would've even offered to no longer be single. But would James? I wasn't sure. Teasing her like that would be nice, but I wasn't even sure she would want me to flirt like that with her.

"How's a handsome guy like you still single?" she teased with a smile.

"I was a bit occupied," I answered a bit more darkly than intended, so I teased back, "How's a pretty girl like you still single?"

She blushed and stared at the window, looking like she was wording her answer carefully. "Relationships have just never been my thing. Romance in general just hasn't been something I really looked for."

"Why?" I asked. It bothered me that she wouldn't look at me. She'd let go of my hand and was playing with her hair while staring at her food.

"I had other things to worry about, and after seeing 'romance' leave Nicky as a single mom, it just wasn't all that appealing." She sighed and took a bite from her food.

"What happened with Luka's father?" she flinched slightly and though she quickly smoothed it away, but for a brief minute I saw brilliant fury on her face. It was almost beautiful, but it also seemed out of place amongst all the sweetness I'd seen in her.

"That's not my story to tell, but I can say that it was not a good situation. He's not a part of Luka's life, nor will he ever be." The edge and finality in her voice taught me something else about her: she was fiercely protective. But who protected her?

"Here's your check," the waiter informed us as he dropped it off. I just slipped a bill in and handed it back to him, not wanting it to interrupt our conversation.

"How long have you lived with Nicky?" I asked, but she ignored my question.

"How much do I owe you?" she said instead. I frowned at her.

"Don't worry about it."

"Are you going to make a habit out of paying for me?" Her tone was unreadable, but I could tell that she was uncomfortable.

"Probably," I'd stolen a large sum of money from Hydra to support myself, but Steve hardly let me pay for anything. Why not spend it on Arabella?

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that," she admitted.

I just nodded in acknowledgement. If became a bigger problem, I'd let her pay. I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, but it also felt ungentlemanly for me to not cover the bill. I may not have many manner left, but I felt strongly about the ones I did have and the ones I was remembering. Manners were one more thing that I could separate myself from the Winter Soldier with.

The waiter brought back the change, and after leaving a small tip I stood up and held me hand out to her. She took it and walked out of the restaurant with me. It was windier out than when we'd walked into the restaurant and Arabella shivered slightly. I wanted to take off my jacket and give it to her, but I was wearing short sleeves and I didn't want my arm to be too obvious. She'd never even seen my full arm. I made a note to to wear long sleeves in the future so I could offer her my coat in times like these.

"Where are you parked?"

"By the coffee shop again," she smiled. "Will you walk me there?"

"Of course," I assured her.

"Where in town do you live?"

"Just off 88th, about two miles from here," I answered, surprisingly okay with her knowing where I lived despite the potential security risks that could mean. She was trustworthy though, she didn't have a deceitful bone in her body from what I'd seen.

"I'll give you a lift, that's on my way to the university anyway," she insisted. While I didn't mind walking, I definitely wasn't going to give up an opportunity to spend more time with her.

She quickly checked her phone as we got into her car and laughed at whatever she saw on the screen. She spent the short car ride telling me about the message Nicky had sent her about Luka. She always smiled so deeply when she spoke about him.

The car ride was over too quickly, but the promise of seeing her at the coffee shop tomorrow was enough to tie me over. We couldn't have lunch tomorrow because she had class shortly after her shift, but I hid my disappointment. She insisted on hugging me goodbye, though it was difficult to really wrap my arms around her in the confined space. I could smell her perfume though, so it didn't matter.

Steve was grinning like a Cheshire Cat when I walked through the door.

"What are you so happy about?" I asked suspiciously.

"How was your date?" he smiled.

"It wasn't a date, and it was fine," I ground out.

"When do I get to meet her?"

"You don't," I answered with finality.

"Come on, eventually she's going to want to know that your best friend is Captain America," he teased with a stupid grin.

"My best friend is nothing but an annoying punk."

"You're going to have to tell her about yourself eventually," Steve chided seriously. "Maybe you could start with Captain America first, then tell her about the Winter Soldier after she's adjusted a bit."

"You mean after I've adjusted," I sighed.

"She'll be the first person you've told yourself," he said with a sad smile. "No one really knows beside us and Natasha."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to find out eventually," I warned.

"Let me handle that while you handle your girl."

"She's not my girl," I groaned with a clenched jaw.

"Sure she's not," he snickered. "When do I get to meet her?"

I sent him a withering look but conceded, "I'll think about it."

**A/N: Thank you all for reading! I'm going to try and consistently update this chapter weekly, but as I travel I may start updating biweekly instead. I hope you all like the chapter and I look forward to getting your feedback! Also, what do you all think of the chapter length? Is it sufficient?**


	6. Chapter 5: Mushroom Soup

**Note: To my despair, I own nothing from Marvel. All characters from their works belong to them. **

**Trigger Warnings: Implications of violence and/or abuse and one instance of mild physical assault. **

**Arabella**

**Two days later**

"Okay, spill it," Nicky ordered me as I scrambled up some eggs for breakfast.

"Spill what?" I asked in false confusion. I already knew what she wanted to talk about, but I also wasn't really looking forward to the lecture it would likely bring on.

"What's his name?" she asked flatly with her hand on her hip.

"What makes you think that there's something going on with a guy?" I asked accusatorially.

"Well not only have you been actually wearing a touch of makeup for the past week, but you've also been eating out for lunch more often than usual," she informed me. I tried to not cringe at my own obviousness. "Plus, I know you and I know that look on your face."

"What look?" I asked defensively.

"The 'I have a stupid crush on some bad boy' look."

"What makes you think he's a bad boy?" I turned to face her and just saw her smirking.

"So, you admit that there's a guy!" she exclaimed haughtily. I went to argue, but she just ignored me and continued on, "Tell me everything!"

I sighed, knowing that there was no way to escape my fate. I could never hide anything from Nicky for long, not that I usually wanted to. She hated men though and I wasn't excited about hearing her speech about how horrible they all were.

"His name is James and I met him at the coffee shop," I admitted with a groan.

She just gave me that, "I need more details" look, so I rolled my eyes and continued.

"He's been coming in for over a month now and we like to talk about books. After a while we just wanted to talk more, so we started grabbing lunch every now and then. It's not a big deal," I tried to underplay it, but she knew what I was doing.

"Everything with you and boys is a big deal," she reminded me with a glare. "What's he like?"

"He's nice, but very private. He doesn't really talk about himself much, but I think it's because it's hard for him. He was in the army, and I don't think he had an easy time. He's starting to talk more about himself, but mostly he just wants to know more about me." I didn't want to tell Nicky anything too personal about him, not that I really knew anything personal about him, but I still wanted to respect his privacy.

"So you're crushing on a former soldier with PTSD?" she confirmed, unimpressed.

"Maybe he does have PTSD, I don't know. Why does it matter though?" I asked venomously.

"Mommy, Auntie, why are you fighting?" Luka interrupted when he walked into the kitchen.

"We're just having an adult conversation Luka," I handed him a plate of scrambled eggs and sat him down on the table. I grabbed a plate for Nicky and me, then had her follow me into my bedroom so we could finish talking.

"Ara, I'm just trying to look out for you," Nicky sighed, trying to appease my anger at her last comment. She failed.

"I can look out for myself!" I hissed, not wanting to raise my voice an upset Luka again.

"Really, can you?" Nicky challenged. "Because you have such a great track record with guys?"

"Like you're one to talk! I dated one bad guy! You dated all the rest!"

Nicky just glared at me in fury, too angry to speak.

I took a deep breath to calm myself before continuing.

"Look, yes I made a mistake once, but I'm not stupid. I know what bad guys look like. I know the look in their eyes that they try to hide. James is a good guy, troubled, but good. Hell, maybe he doesn't have the best past, but he has a good heart. I can see it!" I hoped it would ease her worry, and while she was no longer angry, I could see that she was still concerned.

"Do you really like this guy?"

"I don't know Nicky," I sighed. "It's not like we're dating. We're just friends. Yeah, I'd like something more, but I'm not going to be that silly girl with a crush."

"Okay," she conceded. "Just be careful, all right? If you like him, then go for it, but keep your guard up."

"I know the drill," I assured her. I repeated our rules, "Public places until I really trust him, always have my cell phone on, always make sure someone knows where I'm going, run at any sign of trouble,."

"I want to meet him, it's a rule." That's right, I'd forgotten that rule.

"Deal, but not yet, okay?"

"Deal," she agreed with a smile.

"So, is he cute?" she asked with a devilish smirk.

"Hot as hell," I moaned. "He does need a haircut though."

"Okay, specifics please!" she playfully ordered as though we were back in middle school. Some things never change.

"Dark brown hair with eyes to match. He's tall and handsome," I smiled to myself as I pictured him. "He doesn't smile often, but he's doing it more and more, and when he does..." I just bite my lip, unable to articulate my thoughts.

"What's he like?" she pressed, shoving my arm playfully.

"We should probably get back to Luka, he could be choking on his eggs for all we know," I reminded her, hoping to end my embarrassment.

"You know Luka, he's not choking." She pointed to the door. "He's eavesdropping."

"Am not!" Luka called. "Oops..."

"We'll be out in a minute kid, go eat!" Nicky ordered.

"How long do you think he was there for?" I asked her.

"About a minute, he got bored," she said with a frighteningly solid amount of confidence. I may have raised the kid too, but my "mom" senses were nothing compared to Nicky's. My theory was that having Luka in her womb for nine months gave her some supernatural connection to him.

"You're not getting out of this conversation," she reminded me forcefully. "I want full details tonight."

I just rolled my eyes and headed to the kitchen.

"Are you and mommy done fighting Auntie?" Luka asked when we walked into the room.

"Yes, honey," I assured him with a kiss on his forehead.

"You know that Auntie and I never fight for long," Nicky added.

"Yeah, but you don't usually use your angry voices," he whined.

"I know, and I'm sorry if we upset you," I apologize.

"I forgive you," he said with a seriousness that almost made me giggle.

Nicky poured some tea and handed me a cup. I ate my breakfast standing up, too ansy to move. It was a quiet breakfast until Luka started talking again as I began putting all our dishes in the sink.

"So, am I going to get an uncle soon?" Luka asked innocently.

I dropped the plate in my hand while Nicky choked on her tea.

"W-what?" I stuttered.

"You and mommy were talking about some guy that you like or something. Can he be my new uncle?"

"We are not going to reward your eavesdropping by continuing this conversation," Nicky said quickly, saving my ass.

"Fine, but just so you know, I want an Uncle."

"Not a daddy?" I teased, hoping to turn the heat on Nicky. She glared at me.

"Ew, gross. Who would want to kiss my mom?" Luka responded in horror.

I didn't stop laughing until I was halfway to work.

* * *

><p>Work was almost unbearably normal in the morning, but the afternoon made up for it. While this morning had been full of the usual and polite regulars, the afternoon was hectic. I filled orders as quickly as I could, but the customers didn't seem to care. A huge group of bicyclists came in and crowded the place, but that wasn't the worst part.<p>

The worst part was how rude the leader of the group was. He kept barking at me to be faster and complaining about me. I have a pretty thick skin, but no one likes being harassed by a customer.

He ordered his drink last, and when I finished it I almost jumped up in down in joy. But, then he took a sip of his drink.

"You call this an Americano?" he accused.

"Is there a problem sir?" I asked in the most polite voice I could muster up.

"This drink is terrible!" he complained. "Is there another barista here, one that isn't incompetent?"

"No sir, I'm the only barista working today. If you would like me to make you another drink I would be happy to, on the house." It took a great deal of effort to maintain my professionalism, but somehow I managed to.

"No, but I do want a refund." I refrained from rolling my eyes.

"Of course sir, let me throw that away for you then." I held out my hand to take his drink, but instead he grabbed my wrist.

"Just give me the damn refund!"

"Sir, let go of my wrist right now," I ordered sternly, trying desperately hard not to wince at his bruising grip.

When he didn't let go I forcefully pulled myself out of his grip, biting my lip in pain when my wrist twisted slightly the wrong way.

"Sir, I think you and your friends should leave," I informed him authoritatively.

"Not until I at least get a refund!" he yelled.

I opened the register and threw him a five.

"Now get out, and don't come back," I ordered.

He just glared at me and stormed out of the cafe with his friends behind him. As soon as he left I let out a shaky breath and yelled loudly for my boss Ben, who was cooking in the back.

"Is everything okay," he asked in worry as he ran to the register.

I calmly told him what happened, but he was livid. We'd never had a customer grab one of us or anything, so we weren't used to dealing with it. Ben swore that those guys wouldn't bother me again and had me fill out an accident report. He even called his wife Maggy out from the kitchen to wrap up my wrist, despite my protests.

Once the wrap was on, my wrist did feel better. In all honesty, I was a bit shaken up, but I didn't want anyone to really know that. I especially didn't want to be fussed over, so I just went about my usual duties. It took me a bit longer to make coffee while I was trying to do it mostly one-handed, but luckily none of the customers complained this time.

When James finally came in I really wanted to just wrap my arms around him, but since was at work I controlled myself. I also knew that he seemed a bit uncomfortable with physical affection and didn't want to push him.

"What happened to your wrist?" he asked me when I walked his usual order over to his table.

"Hello, to you too," I replied sarcastically. He was so blunt sometimes.

"You're hurt," he explained defensively, as if that explained his bluntness.

"I'm fine," I assured him.

"You haven't answered my question," he replied in frustration.

"A disgruntled customer grabbed my wrist," I said calmly. "It's just a little tender, no big deal."

"Who?" James asked in a firm voice. The dark look in his eyes scared me a bit.

"James, there's no use dwelling on it," I reasoned, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He must've heard the tremble in my voice because he looked up at me and softened his gaze.

"I don't like the idea of someone hurting you," he explained reluctantly. "Do you usually have problems like that here?"

"No, of course not!" I laughed.

"Does that customer usually come in?" he pressed.

"No," I replied kindly. "I've never seen him before."

"I'd he comes in again, I want you to point him out."

"James, if he comes in-which he won't-my manager will kick him out." I lightly squeezed his shoulder and then let go. "I have to get back to work."

"You're off in an hour, correct?" he confirmed.

"Yes," I smile.

"I'll take to you then," he conceded.

When I finally hung up my apron after my shift finished and head over to his table, he looked even tenser than when I'd left him.

"Are you hungry?" he asked me in an unreadable voice.

"Only a little," I told him truthfully. What I didn't tell him was that his attitude was making me uneasy.

"Does the cafe down the road sound good to you?" Honestly, if his mood didn't improve then I didn't want to go anywhere with him. I simply nodded in response.

"Which book were you reading while I worked?" I asked in an effort to start conversation.

"Thomas Moore's _Utopia_," he replied brusquely.

I stopped walking, causing him to turn around in confusion.

"You don't have to take me to lunch all the time, James. If you'd rather not grab lunch today, I'll understand." The last part was only partially a lie.

"I want to take you to lunch," he replied firmly. "I like taking you lunch."

"You're not acting like it," I said bluntly. "You look like you want to hit something."

That's what really bothered me, the violent edge to his gaze.

"I'm angry that you were hurt, and I'm not sure how to deal with it," he groaned. He turned and punched the brick wall of the building next to us.

"James, just stop please. You're scaring me," I whispered. I hadn't meant to admit it, but it was true. While my heart was telling me that he wouldn't hurt me, I couldn't shake the feeling that he would. The long-buried instincts that I'd developed so long ago were kicking in.

He stopped cold and turned to me with anguish in his eyes.

"I don't want to scare you," he whispered. "I won't hurt you. I'd never do that."

Cautiously and despite my worries I took a step toward him and slowly wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug, giving him plenty of opportunities to pull away or prepare himself for the physical contact. He stiffened a bit at first, but eventually relaxed into the hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my closer to his so that I was tightly pressed up against his body and buried his face into my curls. It was exactly what I needed.

We stayed like that for a few moments, not caring that we were in the middle of a public sidewalk. I could feel the tension and anger leave his body. For a brief moment before he stepped away, I thought he pressed his lips to the top of my head in a gentle kiss, but I doubted that it had really happened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking ashamed.

"Let's just forget about it," I suggested.

"Do you still want to eat lunch together?" He sounded unsure, so I smiled and nodded.

He took my hand as we walked to the cafe and I enjoyed the contact. I just had to trust James in this, that he wouldn't hurt me. It was hard, but I was determined to give him the benefit of the doubt. Yes, he obviously had some dark problems, but he was also improving.

"Would it make you uncomfortable if my friend Steve joined us today?" he asked me with a blank voice that I knew he was using to hide his nerves.

"Not at all! I'd love to meet him."

James pulled out his phone and sent a quick text message, probably to Steve.

"Okay, he'll meet us here in a few minutes."

Was I actually going to learn about James's life today? I hoped so. Even if I only learned a few things, anything would be nice. He was still such a mystery. A mystery I wanted desperately to unravel. After talking to Nicky this morning it was getting harder and harder to convince myself that I only thought of him as a friend.

_Would it really be so bad for me to actually like someone? _I wondered before quietly reminding myself exactly how bad it could be. _Could, but it doesn't have to be. _

"How long have you two been friends?" I asked him in an effort not to lose myself to introspection.

He stopped to think for a moment before answering, "Since we were little kids. We grew up together."

He opened the door for me with a smile and walked me over to a table in the back corner of the nearly empty cafe. He even held out my chair for me and I blushed. I wondered why he was suddenly so mannerly.

"What would you two like to eat?" an older waitress with grey hair and bubblegum-pink lipstick asked us after we looked over the menu.

"I'll just have a cup of mushroom soup and a glass of water," I smiled.

"The house burger and a cream soda," James ordered.

Just then I heard the bells on the front door jungle and turned my head. The man that walked in was wearing a baseball cap low on head, as if to hide his face, and was scanning the room. I immediately stiffened until I saw James wave at him.

"Is that Steve?" I asked nervously.

"Yep," he smiled.

Steve walked over smiled when he saw me. He was handsome with blue eyes, blonde hair, and a sparkling smile. He was also frustratingly familiar even though I couldn't place why.

"I'm Arabella," I said in greeting, offering my hand to him. He shook it firmly.

"Nice to meet you, miss. I'm Steve."

As soon as I heard his voice it hit me and I stepped back in shock. I'd heard that voice before on the news, seen that face on the TV and in newspapers.

"Please don't say it loud," Steve begged.

"I-I won't, it's just that, you're-you're, well, you know," I stuttered. Captain America was James's best friend. Well, fuck.

"Are you okay?" James asked in worry.

"No, I'm fine. I was just surprised." I sat down carefully and gestured for them to sit down too. "Next time can I have a warning before you introduce me to a superhero in a public place?" I teased James.

"In retrospect that wasn't the brightest plan," James admitted.

"It's okay. So, you two are best friends?' I confirmed.

"Practically brothers," Steve smiled. "I'm glad I'm finally meeting you. You're all Bucky can talk about."

"Bucky?" I said in confusion.

"It's a nickname," James answered. I nodded in response.

"Yeah, and as I was saying, Bucky always talks about you." James glared at him and kicked him under the table. Steve winced but looked unabashed.

"I'm really confused about something," I admitted, not even stopping to think about Steve's comment. "You were born before World War Two but were frozen. How did you two grow up together?"

"Have you ever heard of Hydra?" James asked me quietly, not looking me in the eyes.

"The crazy terrorists that destroyed S.H.I.E.L.D. a few months ago?" I tried.

"Those are the ones," Steve muttered.

"They captured me and...froze me too," James continued, seeming to struggle with his answer.

"Why?" I asked in surprise.

"It's complicated," was all he said.

"So when you said you were in the Army, you meant during World War Two, and you just got out of Hydra's clutches three months ago?" I checked, making sure I was following. He nodded his head in response, still not looking me in the eye. "Damn, you need a PTSD dog or something."

"That's actually a good idea! I'll call up-" James kicked him again.

"We're not getting a dog."

"Can you stop kicking me, you jerk?" Steve groaned.

"Only when you stop being stupid."

"Maybe a dog will help," Steve defended.

"You could get a big Lab and take it on runs with you!" I was getting a bit too excited over this. I'd always wanted a dog, but our apartment didn't allow them. At least if James got one I could play with it every now and then. "And I'm sure my boss Ben would let you take it into the coffee shop."

"I'll think about it," James conceded. Steve and I both smiled wide.

"From now on I'm just going to let you ask him for things," Steve laughed. "Having you around is going to be great!"

"Okay," I laughed. "Now, tell me more about when you were growing up!"

"Most of our childhood can be summarized pretty quickly. Steve always got into fights, I always saved his ass, then he would get into more fights," James joked with a quiet smile.

"Bad temper?" I asked Steve in confusion. Captain America always seemed so valiant in all the stories. I guess we all had our problems.

"No," he corrected with a smile. "I just didn't like bullies and was pretty bad at walking away."

"Well, you look like you could hold your own, that's for sure." Steve was obviously well-muscled and strong. Supposedly he had some sort of miracle drug in his blood, but he wouldn't have had that as a kid, right?

"Before he joined the army and they turned him into a super soldier, Steve was just a scrawny little punk," James answered. I could hear the nostalgia in his voice.

"And what were you like?"

"A sarcastic jerk that got any girl he wanted," Steve supplied with a teasing glint in his smile.

I tried not to be jealous or self-conscious. But it was hard. It wasn't all that difficult to imagine James that way. I could just picture him, smiling and unburdened by whatever had happened to him in the war and Hydra. He had probably been charming and flirtatious; I'd seen it hiding underneath everything. Add in his good looks and I had no doubt in my mind that he probably had gotten every girl he wanted. The only question was, did he want _me_?

"And you both grew up in Brooklyn?" I checked, hoping I'd remembered correctly.

Steve and James began describing it to me, the Brooklyn of their childhood. They told me all about their favorite places to play ball or catch a bite to eat. They talked about friends long gone and places that went out of business ages ago. Steve did most of the talking, but whenever James joined in I could see an ease and lightness in him that I wasn't used to seeing. He'd been so remote when he first came into the coffee shop, but he'd come so far in just a month. I wondered how much further he would come in another month.

They talked about their childhood until we had to leave. Bucky offered to walk me to my car and told Steve he'd meet him back at their apartment.

"Thank you for introducing me to him," I smiled as he walked me to my car.

"I didn't think it was fair for me to hide so much from you," he answered quietly. "There's still more, but I'm..." He stopped, struggling with his words.

"I understand. Just tell me when you're ready."

"It's bad Arabella, real bad," he choked out. For a minute I actually thought he may cry, so I wrapped my arms around him.

"Don't worry about that now, okay? When you're ready, we'll work it out," I assured him.

He held me close to him for a brief moment before releasing me.

"Um, am I allowed to tell my sister about Steve? She won't tell anyone, I promise," I asked. If he said no, I would respect that, but I hoped he didn't. It would be nice to be able to talk to her about all this stuff.

"Yeah, but just your sister, okay?" he agreed reluctantly.

"Thanks," I smiled, "and thank you for a great lunch."

Then, before I could lose the nerve, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and hopped in my car.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Thank you all for reading! I can't believe I have 31 followers now! Please review! **

**Also, I'm having a bit of difficulty with the Trigger warnings. I think they are necessary for some people, but I think that they also kind of act as spoilers. I'm thinking about just doing a general trigger warning at the beginning of the story and/or about having an accompanying link on my profile with the trigger warnings for individual chapters. Any suggestions? I know that most authors don't even use trigger warnings, but I think they are important. I also don't want them to act as spoilers though, so I'm a bit torn.**


	7. Chapter 6: BLT

**Note: To my despair, I own nothing from Marvel. All characters from their works belong to them. **

**Trigger Warnings: None that I can really think of for this chapter!**

**Bucky**

I just stood there dumbstruck for a moment. I could still feel the lingering sensation of her kiss. She had kissed me on the cheek, and while I knew that it was also a gesture exchanged amongst friends, I desperately hoped that it meant something more to her than that. It definitely meant something more to me.

My whole image of Arabella shifted. I'd spent so much time telling myself that she wouldn't want me that I hadn't even considered that she might. I still knew I didn't deserve her. She was the embodiment of kindness and joy while I was full of pain and darkness. But I wanted her, and that was significant. I'd wanted so little for myself since I'd woken up. I'd wanted Steve, freedom, and my memories. Those were synonymous with survival, but wanting Arabella was purely selfish.

If there was one thing that had always remained constant in my personality, it was that I was determined. Bucky had been determined, so had the Winter Soldier, and so was I. And now I was determined to be as close to Arabella as possible.

Ever since I'd left Hydra I'd felt lost. As a soldier I'd always had orders. As the winter soldier I'd always had orders too. Now that I had no orders, I needed a purpose. I had my freedom now, and I would never give it up, but simply living to remember everything I'd forgotten wasn't enough. Arabella could give me purpose though; she could give me a goal.

For Steve and for her, I wanted to be the best man possible.

"You're crazy, she isn't ugly," Steve said with a raised eyebrow as I walked through the front door.

"I never said she was."

"Then what's wrong with her?" Steve asked in confusion, obviously assuming he was missing something.

"Nothing is, you idiot," I ground out.

"Then what's the hold-up?"

I took a seat next to him and wished, not for the first time, that I could get drunk. But just like Steve, I couldn't. Hydra had really messed me up. This conversation would be so much easier over a few beers.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Then you're going to make a move?" he confirmed, taking a seat next to me.

"Yes."

"So, what's the plan?" Steve asked nonchalantly, as though it was obvious that he'd help me.

"I need to figure out how to tell her about what I was when Hydra controlled me," I groaned, not looking forward to that conversation one bit. Where did I even start?

"Maybe you should kiss her first, you know, just in case she runs for the hills," Steve shrugged.

"Very helpful."

"It is!" he responded with a laugh. "Remember what you used to always say about girls?"

"That eventually one will look at you?"

"No," Steve glared, "the other thing."

"Honestly, I don't have a clue what you're talking about," I admitted with a sigh. I remembered going on lots of dates with lots of beautiful girls, but details ran together and blurred.

"You used to say that all you ever needed was one kiss to hook 'em." I smiled at the memory.

"I used to be kind of an ass, huh?" I laughed.

I never lied to a girl, never cheated on one, never hit one, but I sure broke a lot of hearts back then. It had never really been intentional, but it happened nonetheless.

"You know she's not just some girl I'm going to take out dancing, right?" I snapped.

"Which is why I propose that you make it a damn good kiss," Steve offered unhelpfully.

"Steve!"

"Well, you could always propose or something, but I don't think that would work out in this era the same way it would've back before the war."

"This is serious Steve!" I yelled, losing my patience. "How do I do this?"

Steve just gave me a sad smile and told me, "You start from the beginning and spare her the gory details."

"How much do I tell her?" I ran my hands through my long hair.

"Enough to make her understand, but nothing that will make her a target. Avoid specific details," Steve answered with a sigh.

"What if she goes running?" It was the most likely reaction I could picture.

"You run after her," Steve replied easily. "You may not be able to beat me in a race, but I think you could catch up to her."

"Since when did you become the expert on girls?"

"Since I got taller," he smiled. I just laughed at him.

"You're such an idiot."

"You're the guy that still hasn't even asked for Arabella's phone number," he rebutted.

"This coming from the guy that can barely work his phone."

"Oh, shut up."

Just then there was a knock on the door. I immediately tensed up because almost no one knew our address. While in all likelihood it was just a neighbor or a postman, I was still prepared for something worse. Steve seemed tense too but he answered the door calmly anyway.

"Took you long enough, were you putting in your dentures or something?" a low woman's voice said.

The woman walked into the apartment like she owned it and I instantly knew who she was: the Black Widow. She was a petite redhead, but I knew the deadliness she hid. Steve had mentioned her a few times and had even talked to her on the phone once or twice, but she'd never come in person. Steve had once told me that I shot her as the Winter Soldier, but I hadn't remembered until I saw her walk into the apartment.

She strutted into the kitchen, opened our fridge, pulled out a beer, and then walked into the room to sit on our coach as though she'd done it a hundred times before. Steve just smirked at her familiarity and I almost threw something at him when I recognized the stupid look on his face.

"I saw a great video of you two this afternoon, got it from the cutest little diner," she smiled dangerously. "By the way, who's the girl?"

I instantly tensed for a fight at her mention of Arabella. I didn't want the Widow anywhere near her. Steve put a hand on my shoulder to try and calm me down, but it did very little to help my nerves.

"Natasha, as much as I like seeing you, why are you here?" Steve asked seriously.

"How would you guys like to kick some Hydra ass?" she smiled. We're all her smiles dangerous and mocking?

"Why do you ask?" Steve asked hesitantly.

"Did you know that S.H.I.E.L.D. is starting up again? It's a bit different now. I think you'll like it."

"I figured Fury wouldn't let it die," he sighed and sat down on the couch next to her.

"Fury's not in charge anymore," she said with a Cheshire Cat grin.

"I thought Hill went to work for Stark?" Steve responded in confusion.

"Not her either," the Widow teased.

"Then who?"

"I'll tell you what, he'll give you a call in a few days. Until then, I suggest you remember what Hydra's done to you."

"How could we ever forget?" I practically yelled. The Widow just looked up at me, unfazed.

"Then maybe you should think about what Hydra could still do to you," she responded with a light firmness. "Maybe you should think about what Hydra could do to that girl you were with."

I saw red and Steve had to firmly hold me to prevent me from doing anything I would regret later.

"No one is going to hurt her," I vowed.

"You so sure about that?" she countered. If Steve didn't let go of my arm soon I'd break his wrist. The Widow needed to die.

"Bucky, stop," Steve firmly scolded. "Natasha, I think you should leave."

She didn't argue, she just left the apartment with an eerily satisfied bounce in her step.

"Stop being stupid and snap out of it," Steve yelled at me.

With the Widow gone I broke down at his words. I'd let my temper get the better of me and it scared me. What if Arabella had been around when I lost my temper like that? I could've accidentally hurt her or scared her, just like I'd scared her earlier when I was angry about her hurt wrist. I whispered her name like a mantra until I my heart rate evened out.

"Do you think Hydra will come after her?" I asked Steve quietly. I'd finally found something that I truly wanted for myself, would Hydra really take it away from me just like it'd taken away nearly everything else?

"She doesn't know anything they need and you haven't told her anything sensitive," Steve assured me. "And even if they do, we'll be here to stand in their way. Don't let them take this away from you before you even really have it."

"Maybe we should take the fight to them first," I suggested.

"You want to join this new S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Steve responded in surprise.

"Maybe," I sighed. "You'd think I'd be tired of fighting, of being a soldier, but I'm not. Maybe that's just what I am. I just miss fighting on the right side."

"Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. could be what we're looking for. Maybe they're the good guys," Steve agreed reluctantly. "But maybe they're not, maybe they're just as bad as Hydra. All villains think they're the hero."

"So maybe they just need Captain America to keep them on the straight and narrow," I teased.

"You're an idiot."

"I'm an idiot? I saw the way you were looking the Widow. Your taste in women is just as scary as ever," I countered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he defended with a blush that reminded me of when he was so much smaller.

"What is it with you? She may actually be poisonous," I said with a shiver.

"She's a good woman," Steve argued heatedly. "Plus, it's not like that."

"Then we really need to find you a girl."

"I'm just waiting for the right one to pop up," Steve groaned.

"Some confidant, strong, scary as hell, no-nonsense woman, right? That's what you always liked. And now that you're taller you may actually have a chance at getting her to like you back."

Steve rolled his eyes and headed out of the room to go workout probably, but called over his shoulder, "Just promise me, no double dates!"

"No promises!" I called back, even though we both knew I wouldn't do that to him again. Plus, it wasn't like he really needed it.

* * *

><p>I had a plan. I was going to learn more about Arabella and exchange phone numbers with her. It was a small plan with a small goal, but I didn't want to rush anything. But that plan disappeared the moment I laid eyes on her when I walked into the coffee shop.<p>

She looked exhausted in every way. She wasn't wearing any makeup and the circles beneath her eyes were a deep violet. Even though she gave me a small smile when I walked into the coffee shop, the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. I suddenly had a new and far more important plan. Find out what happened and fix it.

She said a quiet hello when she brought me my usual order but didn't stay to talk. I'd come in later today, so her shift was almost over. Even though I didn't have to wait more than an hour for her to hang up her apron it felt like an eternity.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her first, even though it was by far the least important question I had floating through my head.

"Not really," she said apologetically.

"Would you rather skip lunch today and just go home?" I asked her quietly. I started to walk her to her car, just in case that's what she wanted.

"No, I want to hang out!" she quickly responded. I smiled a bit to myself at her enthusiasm.

"Then maybe we could go back to my apartment," I suggested. "We could watch some television." I could also make some lunch and offer her some. She was more likely to eat then, and she looked like she hadn't eaten all day.

She instantly tensed up and I worried that I'd said something wrong.

"You want me to go back to your apartment with you?" she hesitantly reiterated. I could hear her voice quiver almost unnoticeably. "Will Steve be there?"

Did Steve make her nervous? She seemed fine with him yesterday. "I can ask him to lease if you want me to."

"No! That's okay!" she said a bit too quickly and vehemently. "I should probably just go home."

"Please tell me what I've done or said to make you so nervous. I didn't mean to upset you. Tell me what I did so I can fix it." My plead came out closer to an order, much to my frustration.

"It's just that...well, you asked me to...when guys usually ask girls to go to their apartments...it's just," she struggled nervously before I figured out the problem. I wished I could kick myself for my stupidity.

"You think I have ulterior motives," I summarized. She guiltily stared at the pavement.

"I'm sorry," she sighed guiltily.

I gently put my hand on her shoulder to stop her. We were almost at her car, but I didn't really care. I just wanted her to look at me and trust me.

"Don't be sorry, you still barely know me," I said as assuringly as I could manage. "I won't take advantage of you or hurt you. I just thought that it would be more relaxing to sit and watch some television than to try and go out and do something."

"Okay, I'll trust you," she agreed with some reluctance. "But just so you know, I carry pepper spray."

"I'll drive, you look exhausted," I offered, holding out my hand for the key.

"You don't have to-" I cut her off.

"I insist."

She handed me the keys with a grateful smile. I opened the passenger door for her like the gentleman I was trying desperately to be. Back before the war I hadn't exactly been the most gentlemanly guy, but I hadn't been completely devoid of manners. I knew how a man was supposed to show respect for a woman, and I intended to show Arabella every respect possible.

"What happened? Why are you so exhausted?" I finally asked when we started driving. The question must have been abrupt because she looked confused at first before realization dawned on her face.

"It was just a long night," she sighed.

"Would you rather not talk about it?"

"No, it's okay. It's just a bit of a long story," she said with a sad smile. I looked at her expectantly, so she continued, "My sister and I are friends with a few foster kids that are still in the system. One of the kids, Matt, has been living in a bad home for a while now so he stays the night at our place sometimes. Last night when he showed up he was beat up pretty badly. Then his foster dad showed up, I guess he'd followed him. We ended up having to call the police and social services."

"Are you hurt?" I asked immediately, worried that she'd been assaulted by the kid's foster dad.

"No, I'm just worried about Matt," she answered dejectedly. "His social worker is going to try and make sure he can stay at the same high school, but there are no guarantees."

"You put yourself in danger by taking him in," I told her

"And I'd do it again in a heartbeat," she responded firmly.

"Next time you have a problem like that, you can call me. I'll give you my phone number," I carefully pulled my phone out of my pocket without taking my eyes off the road and handed it to her.

I could see her inputting her phone number and I felt at least a small sense of relief. I hadn't realized how vulnerable her kindness made her. Maybe I could in some small way help protect her.

"You're a good guy, James," she said. I just hoped she was right.

"Did you sleep at all?" I asked, avoiding her compliment.

"Only an hour or two," she admitted sheepishly.

"Do you have class today?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't start until seven." I checked the clock and saw that it was just past two. That gave us plenty of time.

We pulled into my apartment complex and I parked the car. I opened the door for her and locked the car before handing the keys back to her.

As we walked up to the apartment I saw her send a quick text. It was probably rude of me to look, but I did anyway. It was a quick text to her sister with the apartment number and address, probably as a precautionary measure. Her mistrust stung a bit, but I reminded myself that she was already showing a high level of trust just by coming over.

"What are you doing home so early? Aren't you supposed to be-" Steve started to ask when I walked into the apartment. He stopped as soon as he saw Arabella and grinned widely. "Hey, Arabella!"

"Hey, Steve," she smiled warmly.

"You look beat! Everything okay?" he asked in concern.

"Just some drama at home, nothing to worry about," she replied casually. Steve looked at me questioningly and I assured him with a nod that it was under control.

"Well, take your shows off and make yourself at home," Steve welcomed her with a flourish of his hands. "I was just making some lunch. I'll grab some for you guys while I'm at it."

"Thanks," I quickly said, cutting off Arabella's protest. She glared at me, but it lacked any real malice.

She slipped off her shoes and hung up her jacket. I led her to the couch and handed the remote to her, telling her that she could pick whatever she wanted. The only thing Steve and I really watched on television was the news, so I wasn't picky about the program. She turned on an old black and white television show and just looked to me for approval. I nodded.

She curled her feet under her and made herself comfortable on the couch. I was trying not to crowd her, making sure to give her plenty of space. I almost wished we had a second couch so I could let her have this one to herself. I didn't want her to think that I was going to break my word and try to take advantage of her.

"Here you guys go," Steve said when he put some sandwiches on the coffee table in front of us. He sat down on the floor with his back to the couch and joined us.

"Thanks," Arabella said.

She only ate about half her sandwich, but I didn't press her to eat more. When she was finished eating she moved to sit a bit closer to me. She leaned against me slightly and laid her cheek against my arm. At least I'd sat on her left so that she could lean on my good arm and not the metal one.

"Is this okay?" she asked shyly.

"Yeah!" I said a bit too quickly and eagerly. She laughed at me and just cuddled in closer.

"Thanks," she whispered. I smiled in response and brushed her curls out from her eyes with my metal hand, pleased when she didn't flinch.

"Anytime."

She fell asleep about half-an-hour later, so I just sat on the couch watching the television show she'd picked. Ara was so warm and peaceful that I didn't want to move and risk waking her up. Even Steve was careful to be quiet when he got up to go head to the training room.

As she slept I lightly kissed her forehead. It was an old gesture, born out of an instinct I thought I'd lost long ago. But apparently it wasn't lost, just buried deep. I wondered what else was buried that I hadn't even realized I'd forgotten.

I woke her up at six so she would have time to grab some food before class. She tried to decline, but I insisted that she have at least a small something to eat. I even offered to drive her to class, but she just smiled and told me it wasn't necessary.

"Thanks for everything," she smiled when she started to head out the door.

I pulled her in for a tight hug and held her against me a bit longer than was probably necessary. I desperately wanted to kiss her, but I knew it was the wrong time.

"Anything you need, anytime," I swore. She looked a bit surprised by my vehemence, but seemed appreciative.

"I'll see you tomorrow, James," she promised with another quick hug. "Bye, Steve!" she called over her shoulder as I closed the door behind her.

"Damn, you've got it bad," Steve teased once she'd left.

"She's too good for me," I sighed,

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" he asked with a laugh.

"It hasn't," I grinned, feeling a lot more like Bucky than ever before.

"So, about that PTSD dog…" Steve began before I threw one of the couch pillows at him.

**A/N**

**Thank you all for reading! I'm so excited to have to have so many followers! I know this chapter took a bit longer to get out than usual, but I was having some computer issues. I hope you like this chapter! I know things are moving a bit slow, but I feel like it's more realistic. Please review! I love hearing what people think.**


	8. Chapter 7: Sweet and Sour Pork

**Note: To my despair, I own nothing from Marvel. All characters from their works belong to them. **

**Trigger Warnings: Some discussion about violence.**

**Also, I'm currently working without a Beta, so if you're interested please let me know! I mostly just need some feedback and a second-eye to help me catch typos.**

**Arabella**

When I finally got home that night Nicky was sitting at the kitchen counter waiting for me with a cup of hot chocolate and an evaluating stare.

"Spill," was all she said, but I knew exactly what she meant.

"He noticed how tired I was and invited me over to his place to relax. Steve made us all some lunch and I fell asleep watching some TV with James. That's all that happened, I swear," I told her with a roll of my eyes.

"He didn't try anything?" she asked in cold disbelief.

"Nothing, he was a perfect gentleman," I responded with a smile.

"Not even a wandering hand or something?" she asked skeptically.

"Nope! Hell, he wouldn't even sit too close me at first because he knew I was nervous!" I almost didn't believe it myself, but it was the truth. James had been exactly what I'd needed and so much more.

"I think you found a unicorn," she answered in pure amazement.

"You know, just because you have bad taste in men doesn't mean that most men are bad," I lightly teased with a serious undertone.

"Either way, I like this guy!" She smiled at me but then looked a bit serious, "I still need to meet him though."

"I know, maybe you can stop by the coffee shop on one of your days off and I'll introduce the two of you," I offered.

"Sounds like a deal, but we should do it soon. I don't think you should start getting serious with him before I approve."

"Nicky, he's a nice guy," I groaned in frustration.

"I'm sure he is," she responded with a gentle smile, "but I don't want to take any chances."

I rolled my eyes but didn't push the issue, knowing she meant it out of love. Nicky and I were both protective of each other, and with Nicky's history with men she didn't really trust very many of them. She was just trying to look after me.

"Do you think things will get serious with him?" she asked in curiosity. It was a bit of a novel idea, one of us actually getting serious with a man.

"After today, I really hope they do," I said in shy admittance. "I really care about him."

"And you think he cares about you?"

"I think so. He's opened up so much to me and he's been so wonderful," I said with a smile.

"So what happens next then? You guys are practically dating already," there was a current of unease in her eyes. I knew she'd deny it if I asked, but I hoped she would talk to me about it later. There was something more bothering her than just protectiveness.

"I'm not really sure; I've never done this before. I guess I just let it take its course," I sighed.

"That's bull shit. If you like him, tell him. If you want to kiss him, then do it," she smirked.

"I may actually follow your advice on that one," I laughed.

"Now that we had the mandatory girl talk, can I _please _go to sleep?" she begged.

"Yeah," I laughed.

"By the way, Luka's in your bed," she told me casually.

"What? Why?" Luka was a pretty independent, so he usually never climbed into bed with one of us unless he had a nightmare or something.

"He's worried about Matt," she sighed.

We tried to shield Luka from the darker parts of life, but it was hard sometimes. We'd pretty much failed last night. When Matt came over he was pretty beat to hell. Luka was really freaked out when he saw, he even insisted on sleeping with Matt to make sure he was okay. It seemed harmless and sweet, but it created a problem when Matt's foster dad showed up.

Our sweet little boy wasn't even scared for himself, he was scared for Matt. At least Nicky kept that drunken idiot under control. He yelled a lot, but she kept him distracted while I forced Luka to stay in his room and called social services and the police. By the time the police got to the apartment Nicky had pepper-sprayed the man and tied him to a chair because he tried to leave with Matt.

"He's been asking about Matt all day. We'll have to bring him around soon so Luka doesn't start freaking out," Nicky sighed.

"Once he's set up in his new home he'll stop by, you know that," I said with a sad smile. "We give him free food; we'll never get rid of the boy."

"I know," she said with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Give my sweet little boy a kiss for me."

"I will," I promised. I gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek and head to my room.

Luka was going to be difficult in the best of ways. He was going to be handsome, that's for sure. He also took after Nicky and me in nearly every way, which meant that he was most definitely going to get into trouble. He was already so kind, caring, compassionate, and protective, and he was barely in preschool. He was going to be a great man, but I also knew that he was going to be the kind of guy that protected people at his own expense. It made me proud, but it also scared the daylight out of me.

He was sprawled out on the bed like a starfish, snoring lightly, in just his pull-up. Luckily he slept like the dead (just like Nicky) and didn't wake up when I moved him a bit to make room for myself. He was a little heater, so I fell asleep quickly with my arms wrapped around him. I made sure to give him a soft kiss for his mom right before I drifted off.

He woke me up a few minutes before my alarm went off by poking my nose.

"Aunty, I'm hungry," he whined.

"Luka, can you wait until my alarm goes off please, honey?" I groaned.

"Do I have to?" he complained.

"Yes."

"Fine," he huffed.

He waited in my room, playing with my hair as I dozed. He was actually being pretty patient. But once my alarm went off he practically jumped on me and pulled me into the kitchen.

"There's tea for you on the counter," Nicky laughed when she saw Luka pulling me into the kitchen.

"Are you making French Toast?" I asked in excitement that mirrored Luka's.

"Yep! Luka baby, can you grab the juice from the fridge and place it on the table?" she asked. He obediently listened, even though I had to help him slightly to reach the juice.

"Go grab the silverware," I told him once he had put the juice on the table. "We only need forks."

He ran to grab them as Nicky put food on the table. He really was cute, reaching on his tiptoes to grab the forks in only his pull-up.

"I got the little forks because I couldn't reach the big ones," he told us in a very serious voice.

We thanked him and started digging in. Nicky didn't cook very often, but when she did it was always great. She liked to make slightly more involved breakfasts than my usual scrambled eggs.

"I'm off work tomorrow, so I'll stop by the cafe while Luka is at preschool," Nicky told me with a smirk.

"Are you going to meet her boyfriend?" Luka asked. The kid was too smart for his own damn good. "Can I go? I want to know if he'll be a good uncle."

"Luka, he's just a friend," I groaned.

"He could still be my uncle," he responded challengingly, obviously not understanding the distinction between a boyfriend and a friend that happened to be a boy. Luka was still a bit too young to understand things like romance.

"I'll meet him first Luka, if he passes my test then you can have a go at him," Nicky promised, much to my frustration. I glared at her but she just smiled back.

"Okay," he agreed.

"Any requirements?" she asked him. I tried to kick her under the table, but she deftly dodged my foot.

"He needs to be able to teach me how to throw a football and stuff," Luka responded immediately. Then he paused to think for a moment before adding, "He should be able to put me on his shoulders like Matt does. Oh! And he needs to be nice."

"I'll make sure to check that he can do that stuff," Nicky said with a chuckle, but I could see the slight hurt in her eyes. We did so much for him, but he really did need a male role-model in some way. Nicky and I could teach him how to throw a ball and all that, but we knew it wasn't quite the same coming from us.

"You two are ridiculous! I'm going to go do the dishes!" I huffed as I left the table.

As I was washing the plates I heard my cell phone ring. I quickly dried my hands and checked the caller ID. Much to my surprise and excitement, James was calling.

"Hello," I answered as calmly as possible.

"Hey, it's James," he responded. He sounded a bit nervous too, but I couldn't be sure.

"What's up?"

"Do you have class today?" he asked.

"No, but I'm working a bit later than usual. I'm scheduled to get off around five tonight," I replied apologetically. It was too bad that we couldn't grab lunch today.

"Well, do you have plans after work?"

"No, Nicky's only working a single shift today, so she'll pick Luka up from the sitter tonight."

"Then would you like to have dinner with me?" he asked in a voice that almost sounded shy. I bit my lip and grinned.

"That sounds nice," I agreed.

"I mean as a date," he said in a rush.

"That sounds even better," I responded before I could even think about it. I almost laughed at my blunt eagerness, but I heard him sigh in relief so I figured he liked my response.

"I'll stop in for your break and then I'll pick you up after work, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan, see you then," I smiled.

"See you later," he responded before hanging up.

No shame, but I definitely grinned like a fool and practically did a happy dance. I'd known that I liked James, but I hadn't realized how much I'd wanted to move past being friends until it finally was happening. I genuinely liked him, and while that terrified the hell out me, it was also a wonderful feeling.

There was a grin that I couldn't shake until nearly an hour into my shift at the cafe, and even after it was gone I still had this giddiness racing through my blood. I'd never really experienced it before. It was this odd mix of nausea and joy that made me finally understand why people were so insistent on doing things like dating.

Most of the foster parents I lived with were either perpetually single, serial daters, or in terrible marriages. And honestly, I tended to like the perpetually single ones the best. Couple that with Nicky's fantastically poor taste in men and add a dash or two of my own bad experiences with dating, and it made sense why I'd never understood the craze or the apparent necessity. Until now.

When James walked in for his usual order I sent him a warm smile, now anxiously waiting for my break. It didn't nearly come soon enough, and I kept looking over at him while I worked. He was still reading _Utopia_, but he caught me looking at him every now and then. He'd just smirk when our eyes met.

"It's such a surprise to run into you," I teased when I walked over to his table once my boss sent me on break.

James stood up and grabbed the mug of tea I had in my hand from me and set it on the table. Then he pulled me into a tight hug. I relished in his warm scent and obvious strength. It still amazed me that he'd become so much more comfortable around me than when we first met, but I wasn't going to look the gift horse in the mouth.

"How's work going?" he asked casually, releasing me from his arms.

"No different than any other day," I responded with a small laugh. He was still standing so close to me. For a brief moment I wished he would lean down and kiss me. If only we weren't standing in the middle of the place where I worked.

"You look much better," he told me kindly.

He had been so concerned about me yesterday. It was odd to have someone other than Nicky really looking out for me like that. I had friends and coworkers that commented worriedly that I looked tired, but when I just told them I hadn't slept well they just shrugged it off and went about their own business; that's what I expected. I knew how to take care of myself. But then to have James take me over to his place, ask about _why_ I hadn't slept well, and let me fall asleep on his couch... I wasn't sure what exactly to make of it. He even woke me up and fed me before class!

"Thank you for yesterday," I told his sheepishly, "I really needed that."

"Anytime," he said seriously.

He stepped slightly away from me and pulled out my chair so I could sit down. It was such an antiquated gesture, but it suited him perfectly. He even did it with a slight smirk on his face, as if proud of his own manners.

I bit my lip in shyness and sat down. I'd only ever had my chair pulled out once before, and that guy had used manners as a show. It had felt forced and uncomfortable, likely because I knew he was just trying to get in my pants. But with James it felt perfectly natural and kind.

"How's your book going?" I asked.

"Slowly, but I'm enjoying it."

"I've never actually read that one before," I replied with a laugh. Of all the books he'd read, there had only been three or four that I'd never read.

"You can borrow it when I'm done, we can talk about it later," he offered, just as he had with the others.

"I like that idea."

"So have you heard anything about your friend, the foster kid?" he asked seriously.

"No," I sighed. "We'll hear from him in the next few days though, once he's settled into a new home."

"Do you think this one will be any better?" The concern in his voice was touching.

"It's hard to tell, but I hope so. Matt doesn't have much longer in the system. He just needs a semi-decent home and he'll make it out clean."

"How many other foster kids do you keep an eye on?" he asked in curiosity.

"Just a few. Most of our friends are out of the system, but there are still a few kids that stop by our house for food and a place to crash." In just a few years they would all be out. I just hoped they all made it.

"That's really kind of you," he said with a touch of awe in his voice that made me bashful.

"Well, we're not saints," I joked. "We still have rules: no lying, no stealing, no drugs, behave around Luka, and no friends unless it's an emergency. They're pretty simple requests, but we've had a problem once or twice. They all know the rules though, so they break them at their own detriment."

"Do you have problems like the other night pretty often?" I could tell he was worried by that. Between his reaction when that bicyclist grabbed me and the concern he showed yesterday, I could tell he was protective.

"Every now and then, but not often," I shrugged.

"I know you already answered this yesterday, but I just need to hear you say it again. He didn't hurt you or your family, right?"

"Not at all. Hell, Nicky did some damage to him! She pepper-sprayed him and tied him to a chair," I laughed. Then, in a more somber and reflective voice I admitted, "The whole thing freaked out Luka a bit though."

"Do you think he'll be okay?" he asked in concern. His concern for Luka, a little boy he'd never even met, warmed my heart even more that James's concern for me.

"He'll bounce back, especially once he sees that Matt's okay," I assured him.

"Is that your lunch?" he asked slowly, pointing to the croissant and tea in front of me. Because I was working a longer shift today my break was later in the day, so he was right. I had a feeling he wasn't too happy about my small meal.

"Nicky made a big breakfast this morning," I told him, omitting the fact that I had only eaten a slice of her French toast. Luka wasn't the only one worried about Matt. I'd regain my appetite when I could see for myself that the kid was safe.

"Well, I was thinking that we could go to the Chinese restaurant again, the one we went to before. Does that sound okay?" I nodded in acceptance. There weren't many restaurant options, so I wasn't picky. I'd be just as happy eating a sandwich at his apartment again.

For the rest of my break we talked more about my family and his childhood. As always, he was far more comfortable asking me personal questions than talking about himself. He was slowly starting to open up to me though. He told me a bit about his home, but I started to get the feeling that he couldn't remember everything. He still hadn't really told me about how and why Hydra froze him, but I had the feeling that it had messed with his memory. I knew it was bad, he'd told me so, and I didn't want to push him.

It was hard though. I honestly would answer any question he asked of me, no matter how difficult or sensitive. While it was partially because I trusted him, it was mostly just the type of person I was. I was honest and open, but not unnecessarily. I rarely told someone about myself unless they asked, and I tended to only give them the bare minimum, but that was largely because I knew that most people didn't want to hear the sad details of another person's life.

James did though. He wanted to know about me, and I wanted to know about him in turn. That's why his reluctance was difficult for me. He was creating a double standard. I just had to continually remind myself that it wasn't meant to intentionally hurt me. He was a private person and he'd been slowly opening up to me more and more. If I pushed him he might shut down, but if I was patient then, in time, he would open up to me. He'd already started. I just needed to continue to be patient. It was hard, but doable.

After he left the cafe to go work out with Steve I started to think about my own secrets. None of them were intentional, and I truly would tell him if he ever asked, but not until then. It. Wasn't information that needed to be dwelled on, and if it never came up then it was fine. My scars had healed long ago and I'd accepted their consequences. There was no need to bring them up unless he asked. They had no effect on James and me.

I knew that there was one thing that I was most likely going to have to explain to him. I didn't look forward to the conversation, but I figured it was unavoidable. I wasn't resistant because of my own feelings, but instead because I knew it would upset him. Nicky was probably going to allude to it though, so I needed to think through how I wanted to word things.

* * *

><p>When James came to pick me up he was dressed in a blue button-up shirt that matched his eyes and dark jeans. His hair was pulled back out of his face and tied at the base of his neck. Damn he looked handsome.<p>

I looked down at my own clothes, briefly wishing I'd worn something nicer, but then let it go. I was wearing a slightly baggy, maroon sweater-dress over black leggings and flats. It wasn't anything special, but I still looked nice. I quickly checked my makeup and hair in the small mirror above where we hang our aprons and went out to meet him.

"I wasn't sure if guys still brought girls flowers when they went on dates, so I only brought one," he told me sheepishly, pulling out a single rose from its hiding place inside his coat.

"Thank you," I said shyly. I took the rose from him and careful tucked it into my bun. The deep color of the rose matched my dress almost perfectly. "As for worrying about what guys do nowadays, don't. Just do what you feel comfortable with, okay?"

Going on a date was nerve-wracking enough; he didn't need to worry about figuring out all the modern weirdness too.

"Well then, let's head to the restaurant," he suggested. He even offered me his arm, which I took enthusiastically.

We were both quiet during the walk, but not uncomfortably so. It wasn't a nervous quietness where we were both struggling with what to say, but instead an easy and calm quiet where we were both simply content to walk next to each other.

"How did your workout go?" I asked when we sat down at the restaurant.

"Steve and I accidentally put a hole in the wall," he responded with a small smile.

"You did what?" I asked in disbelief.

"It's not the first time. We were sparring and things just got a bit...out of hand," he laughed quietly.

"So you two routinely break walls while fighting?" I laughed. He just nodded and laughed along with me. "I'd love to see that!"

"Maybe you can come by and watch us spar," he suggested with a hint of reluctance.

"Only if you're okay with it," I told him, sensing that he wasn't a huge fan of the idea.

"It's just that we get pretty into it, and sometimes I go a bit overboard," he told me darkly.

"Overboard how?"

"I just forget where I am for a bit. I'm not sure you'd want to see that."

He had PTSD episodes sometimes, that's what he was saying. Of course he wouldn't want me around; PTSD episodes can lead to irrational and violent behavior. The idea did make me slightly nervous, but I knew Steve would be there. I doubted Captain America would let James do something to me that he'd regret.

"Have you given any more thought to my suggestion about getting a dog?" I changed the subject.

His answer was interrupted by the waiter, but he answered once we'd ordered our food.

"Do you honestly think it would help?" he sighed.

"Well, it definitely wouldn't hurt," I teased. "You don't have to get an official PTSD dog. You can just go to the shelter and rescue one. You can take it running with you, it'll keep you company at the apartment, and my boss will definitely let you bring it into the cafe!" Not as though I'd give Ben a choice in the matter.

"Well, maybe I can go to a shelter and take a look," he agreed reluctantly. I'd probably feel a bit bad forcing the issue if I wasn't certain that he'd end up loving the dog.

"There's a rescue center a few cities over that takes in Pit Bulls, you could look there!" I suggested excitedly.

Nicky and I wanted one badly, but we didn't feel comfortable with it while we both worked so much. Secretly, I wanted to get one once I graduated and have it be a certified therapy dog so it could come to work with me and help with the kids, but I knew it was a pipedream.

"Pit Bulls?" he responded warily. "Aren't those nanny dogs?"

That's right, he wouldn't know about the stigma they'd gained. He wouldn't know about the overblown media coverage, false statistics, and their hugely vilified image. He would only know them as what they were in his day, a dog commonly used to look after kids due to its great compatibility with children.

"They've gained a bit of a bad reputation lately. People started using them as fighting dogs, and now most shelters automatically put down any pit bull, no matter what the dog's temperament is, so several rescue organizations have started taking them in."

"I think I can relate a bit," he sighed. "Okay, you've convinced me. I'll talk to Steve about it. He'll probably want to come with us to pick up the dog."

"Us?" I asked in surprise.

"Of course," he replied in confusion. "I thought you'd want to come too."

"I'd love to!" I replied enthusiastically.

I'd always wanted a dog. It seemed like something families had, and I always wanted a family. A few of my foster homes had dogs, and even in the bad homes the dogs were sweet. The dogs were always the best part. Sloppy Labs, furry German Shepherds, adorable Mutts, they were all great. But Pit Bulls had a special place in my heart because of Daisy, the sweetest dog I'd ever come across in one of my homes. She even used to sleep curled up at the foot of my bed.

"The dog will probably be already fixed, and the shelter will probably send you home with a blanket or two and some food. The local pet store will have anything else you need!" James just smiled at my barely concealed enthusiasm.

"You're really excited about this," he laughed.

"James, it'll be perfect!" I bit my lip, realizing something important. "You're not just doing this because I talked you into it, right?"

"Admittedly, that's part of it," he shrugged, "but it does sound nice. I've never had a dog."

"It's a big commitment," I reluctantly admitted, not wanting him to change his mind.

"A bit of commitment and responsibility will be good for me," he joked. "Plus, I think Steve likes the idea just as much as you do."

"I knew I liked that guy for a reason," I laughed.

"Careful or I'll get jealous," he teased.

"Worried I'll run off with America's golden boy?" I flirted back. James had never been this teasing and comfortable, it was something I could easily get used to.

"Nah, America's golden boy wouldn't know how to talk to pretty girl of his life depended on it."

"You sure about that? Some girls find that shy and sweet thing cute," I challenged.

"Some, but not all," he smirked knowingly as the waiter brought over our food.

"Well maybe I do."

"You don't," he said with confidence. But then I saw the small bit of worry in his eyes that he was trying to hide.

"You're right, I don't." I smiled at him in hopes that it would ease any self-doubt he had. I liked him, only him, and I wasn't going to deny it.

"You know, back in my day I would've taken you dancing out on the town," he said with a shy smile.

"We could always still go dancing; they have dance clubs in the city and in the bigger towns. It would be a bit of a drive, but not that bad," I suggested. I bit my lip though in instant regret for assuming that we'd have other dates. That was too forward, right?

"I'm pretty sure the dancing is a lot different now than what I'm used to," he laughed. He'd laughed so much tonight.

"They have all sorts of dance places," easily replied. It was true though, I couldn't imagine him at some sweaty club. Honestly, I Tended to avoid those places unless I was seriously drunk and and upset. Too crowded, too sweaty, and too many wandering hands. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad with a date though...

"I'll look into it," he replied.

"I feel like I'm talking you into so many things," I joked.

"I know! You're really strong-arming me here."

"Where else did you take girls back in your old time?" I asked in pure curiosity. It should have probably bothered me more that he was from such a different world, but it didn't. James was James, where he came from was a part of him.

"Mostly out dancing, but sometimes out for a bite to eat or to the cinema," he said nonchalantly.

"Some things never change," I mused.

"I guess, but some things are so different too," he practically whispered. Then, just as brusquely as usual, he changed the subject. "Were your parents the only family you had?"

"Um, basically," I responded, barely having time to gather my thoughts with his sudden topic change. Of course he'd shift the conversation back onto me.

"They were both only-children. My dad's parents died right before I was born. I lived with my grandmother for a few months after my parents died, but her health was bad. She had to be put in a home and I had to be put in the system. She passed away a few years ago."

She'd been buried next to my parents and my grandfather. I still visited their graves occasionally, but the grief no longer touched me. It was probably still there, but I refused to let it affect my life. I instead preferred to focus on my family now, on Nicky and Luka.

"And you never had any siblings?"

"The only sibling I've ever had and ever needed was Nicky," I said with a smile.

"Am I ever going to meet this mysterious sister of yours?" I could tell he wanted to but was slightly intimidated by the idea.

"You will, and I'm sorry." It was best to warn him and preemptively apologize for her inevitable behavior. "Nicky is extremely protective and has no filter."

"Are you saying she's going to give me a tough time?" he said with raised brows.

"I'm saying that she'll most likely threaten you and try to scare the hell out of you," I replied with blatant honesty. I wouldn't be surprised if Nicky tried her best to scare him away. I just desperately hoped she failed.

"Would you do that too if she started seeing a guy?" he asked appraisingly.

"Nicky has terrible taste in men. If she ever brought a guy home, which I seriously doubt she would, I would probably tie him to a chair and do a background check before I even considered approving of him," I answered seriously.

"I'd pay to see that," he laughed. He probably doubted my sincerity or capability, most people did. Yes, I was petite and sweet, but a pissed off and protective woman was always a force to be reckoned with, no matter her size.

The rest of the date followed much in suit. We joked, he asked me more about myself, and every now and then I would hear details of his life. He even mentioned a younger sister, but I could see that he didn't want to delve further into it. My suspicions about gaps in his memory grew as he talked more about himself.

When we finished eating he paid the bill again, even though I protested. It really did make me feel uncomfortable, but I tried to suppress it. He was just trying to be gentlemanly, I reminded myself. He was from a different time, and that was a commonplace practice back then.

It was colder when we walked outside, and my thin jacket wasn't quite warm enough. He wrapped his coat around my shoulders and I smiled in thanks. His long sleeve shirt hid his metal arm, to my slight disappointment. I wanted to see what it really looked like. How far did it go up? How was it attached? But I knew it was too much of a sore subject to ask about. I even wondered if he specifically wore a long-sleeved shirt to hide it.

"Ara, will you come back to my apartment with me?" he asked nervously. I tried not to jump to any conclusions, reminding myself how respectful he'd been yesterday and tonight, but it was hard to kick the nagging feeling in the back of my head.

"Any particular reason?" I asked tentatively. He stopped and looked at me appraisingly, probably noticing something strange in my tone. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. I took that as a sign that he'd realized the conclusion I'd jumped to and that I'd been wrong.

"I just want to talk," he sighed.

"Then, okay," I said with a forced smile, hoping to ease the tension I'd created.

"Steve will be there; we won't be alone," he tried to assure me even though I knew he was a bit hurt by my mistrust. "But Ara, I wish you would trust me more. You have such faith in me in so many other ways. I just want you to extend that faith into this part too."

"James-" I tried to apologize before he cut me off.

"Don't apologize. I'll earn your trust."

He walked me to the car and went to open the car door for me once I'd unlocked it. I turned to thank him, but the words caught in my throat when I realized how close he was. He was standing only inches from me and had heat in his eyes. His eyes flickered to my lips and I instantly knew what he wanted. I wanted the same thing. He closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and went to step back and give me space.

I grabbed his shirt unthinkingly when he tried to step back respectfully. His eyes instantly shot open in surprise and I took the opportunity to stand on my tip toes and pull his head down to mine. It was the most wonderful kiss I'd ever had.

He was frozen at first, but quickly thawed. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me flush against him. I'm not sure what exactly came over me, but I laced my fingers in his hair and tentatively tasted his lips with my tongue. James let out a small moan, so quiet I almost missed it, and tasted my own tongue with his. I tried to pull myself even closer to him, if it was even possible, and we stumbled slightly against the car.

I was pressed against the door, my tongue dancing with his, and I felt his hand wander down to my hip. I wouldn't have stopped him if it kept wandering; I was enjoying the kiss far too much to stop. He seemed to catch himself though and pulled away.

"I didn't...I wasn't...I was going to wait until later," he struggled to explain. I waited patiently for him to explain. "You may not want to go out with me again after we talk tonight," he said dejectedly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked in confusion.

"I want to tell you what happened to me, what I couldn't bring myself to tell you before," he replied hoarsely. "I told you it was bad, and it is. You might hate me."

"I seriously doubt that," I assured him.

We got in the car and I drove to his apartment. He was nervous and panicked the whole car-ride. He honestly thought I was going to hate him, and it scared me a bit. What could be so bad? He promised he wouldn't hurt me though, that I could trust him, and I believed him.

By the time we walked into the apartment he was a nervous wreck. Steve was waiting on the couch, obviously aware of what was going to happen. I sat down next to him while James paced the room frantically, running his fingers through his hair with such force that I worried he would pull it out. It had already come untied.

"Bucky, sit down, you're making me nervous," Steve tried to reason calmly, but he was also tense.

"No," he responded flatly.

"Did you kill puppies?" I asked suddenly.

"What? No," he stopped pacing for a moment and answered in confusion.

"Are you a pedophile?"

"No!" he responded in disgust.

"Rapist?"

"No!" he almost yelled.

"Then sit your ass down, take a few breaths, and tell me what you need to," I ordered with a threatening smile.

He followed my order almost immediately, ever the soldier. He sat down right between Steve and me on the couch. It was a bit crowded, but not unbearably so.

"Do you remember when we told you that Bucky had been frozen too?" Steve began, trying to help James out. I nodded in response. "Well, it's a bit more complicated than that."

"I fell off a train and was taken in by Soviets," James began, "but later Hydra took over. They fixed me up, gave me a cocktail of drugs similar to the ones that made Steve into Captain America, gave me a new arm, and then wiped my memories."

"All of them?" I reluctantly asked, a fearful feeling settling into the pit of my stomach.

"Every single one," he responded darkly. "I was their weapon. I was under their full control. I killed people for them, kidnapped people, and did anything else they ordered, then they would wipe my memory again."

"You spent over half a century as a weapon," I summarized in horror.

"They sent me after Steve in New York, and seeing him again messed me up. I didn't know who he was, but I _knew _him. It confused the hell out of me. I just couldn't take it anymore, so I broke into Hydra, stole my file, and searched for him. He was the only thing that seemed right. Since then I've been with him, away from Hydra," he said with a sad smile. "I have lots of my memories back now, but there's still tons of stuff I don't remember."

"And Hydra doesn't control you anymore?" I hesitantly checked.

"The only person that controls me now is _me_," he responded vehemently. After though, he sighed and looked at me sadly. "I've done a lot of terrible things, Arabella. I have so much blood on my hands. I understand if you want me to stay away from you. I will if you ask me to, I'd never hurt you."

I looked at him silently for a moment. He seriously thought I was going to run and ask him to stay away. He expected me to be afraid of him, it was written plain as day in his broken expression. My poor James.

"Steve, can you please give James and me some privacy?" I asked flatly.

"Look, Arabella, please give James a chance," Steve unnecessarily tried to reason.

"Have some faith in me Steve, I just want to talk to him alone," I responded a bit more defensively than intended.

Steve hesitated, but finally left the room after I glared at him.

"I know that I was nothing but a monster, but please forgive me," he begged with watery eyes.

"You were tortured, brainwashed, used, and imprisoned for decades, and you're _apologizing_?" I asked in blatant frustration.

"I killed people, tortured people," he practically sobbed.

"Did you want to? Did you have any choice?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," he whispered.

"Then please don't apologize," I begged.

"How can you stand to sit next to me, to be in the same room as me? I have so much blood on my hands while you're so kind and innocent," he asked in frantic confusion.

"James, you're a good man. What happened was not your fault," I reasoned.

I moved myself closer to him and reached out to wrap my arms around him. He instantly reciprocated the embrace and held me close to him as he calmed himself down. We stayed like that for so long, but we both desperately needed it.

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><p><strong>AN: **

**I know that it took me awhile to update, but hopefully this nice long chapter appeases you! I'm so grateful to have so many followers. Please review! I love feedback!**

**I'm also so excited that they finally went on a date and kissed. My head was starting to get stuck in their future; it'll be easier to write now that they've made that step. I hope you all really liked the chapter! Also, I'm considering starting to have a separate fic that's just one-shots of certain scenes, told in the opposite POV than they were originally written in. If you have any requests, let me know! I might wait until I finish this fic to write the additions, but it'll be nice to know which scenes you all are most interested in! **


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